Angels, Demons, and TV Shows
by MollyMonster
Summary: Lucy Greene is a regular high school student. Well, not completely normal, since her favorite TV show consists of angels and demons and creatures that go bump in the night. But her life is ordinary. Until the characters from her show burst into her high school, sending her into a world she can't control.
1. Chapter 1

I glanced at the clock every few seconds, watching the seconds tick by. I couldn't help it. It was either that or focus on trig, and _that _wasn't going to happen. I glanced down at the papers in front of me, scowling at the symbols and numbers printed on the white sheet of paper, and shifted my gaze back to the clock. There was only about a minute until the bell would ring. Then I could escape to lunch.

"The bell hasn't rung yet." I glanced around to see students pause in packing their bags, eyes downcast at their teacher's scolding. For the most part Mrs. Varia was nice, and definitely a good teacher, but she was a bit strict.

I tapped my fingers on my desk for the few remaining seconds, hands shooting out to snatch up my binder and calculator as soon as that loud ring echoed through the room. Within moments I was in the hall, walking quickly, quickly.

"Lucy!"

I glanced behind me to see Neal jog towards me, towering above most other students in the hallway. I had one class with him, Business. We were supposed to be presenting an original business idea during class that day. We had both brought home half of the work, and were supposed to meet during lunch to put together the finishing touches.

Neal slowed as he approached me, and I kept walking, his long legs easily keeping pace with me.

"Ready for today?" I asked.

Neal grimaced. "About that…"

I stopped and glared at him. "Tell me you didn't leave your half of the presentation at home."

"Ok," he said.

I raised my eyebrows. "So you have it?"

"No."

"Then where the hell is it?"

"You said not to say!"

I groaned and slammed my forehead into my palm, an action purely for dramatic effect. At least all my work the previous night hadn't been for nothing. Neal had never been the most trustworthy student, and intuition had made me complete both halves of the presentation. We still had a full project.

"You're lucky I have a backup copy of your part," I said.

"You what?" Neal raced to catch up with me; I had started walking again. "Why would you do the whole thing?"

"Because I didn't trust you to bring your half," I shot at him. "And look, I was right."

Neal looked like he wanted to complain, then thought better of it.

"Can I take a look at it?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "You better," I told him. "You've got to present half of it. And I don't mean read off the page. You have to memorize your half by the end of the day."

Neal shrugged. "I already have it memorized," he said. "I did my half, I just forgot it at home. I know the information. Unless you changed things of course."

"Nope. It's all the same."

We passed a mirror that hung at the corner of the hallway, and I glanced in. Dark skin and hair contrasted rather nicely with the white, lacey shirt I had on over skinny jeans. Dark eyes were highlighted with black eyeliner. I looked good.

I was also starving. I picked up my speed, headed towards the lunchroom. I was moving so fast that when the blast hit me, it threw me off my feet.

I rolled as I landed, flopping over my backpack like a dead fish before twisting onto my stomach, arms coming up and over my head. A moment later Neal crashed next to me, curling up into a ball.

"What the hell?"

I lifted my head, scanning around with wide eyes. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and I stopped for a moment to focus on my breathing. A moment later I caught sight of the man standing in the hall, and any semblance of control that I'd established over my body vanished.

He was a typical guy, in jeans and a t-shirt underneath a jacket. He could have been any dude on the streets, except for his eyes. They were pure black, from the outer edges in. No iris, no whites, nothing. Just black.

_What was he, some sort of demon? _I'd seen demons before, on tv shows, but that's all they were. Pieces of fiction, devised in someone's mind and of no danger to the real world. Yet here stood some sort of man that looked exactly like what a demon would look like.

Or at least according to one show that I watched. I was familiar with multiple shows and movies featuring demons, some better than others, but my all-time favorite was called _Supernatural_. The show starred two brothers who spent their lives on the road, hunting demons, werewolves, and all those other creatures from your childhood nightmares.

_But they weren't real. They couldn't be. _Things like this didn't happen. Monsters and heroes from your favorite stories didn't just pop out of nowhere and into your high school, they were limited to the scope of your imagination.

So maybe it was my imagination. _Was I going mad? _I looked around me; everything seemed real enough. But for all I knew, I could be trapped inside my own little story, in my head, and could be flailing about on the hallway floor screaming about demons in reality. If so, that would be embarrassing.

But right then, it didn't matter. The demon was starting to move, headed for the student closest to him. Before it had a chance to touch him, I barreled into its stomach, and we crashed to the floor.

The demon landed underneath me, and even as I screamed for people to start running, it flipped me, as easily as one would flip a pillow, so that it was on top. It grinned down at me, black eyes boring into mine, then stood.

It kept a hand on my throat as it did, lifting me into the air. Somewhere in the back of my mind I noted how everyone was running and screaming. The majority of my attention was focused on the hand around my throat, slowly squeezing the life out of me.

I thrashed, kicking and hitting, clawing at the hands around my neck- all to no avail. I tried to scream, but no sound escaped my throat. By now my vision was starting to flicker, my limbs suddenly far too heavy. My lungs felt like they were on fire, yet there was nothing I could do, I was failing, failing.

"Hey!" The demon's head whipped to the side, and a moment later the grip around my throat vanished. I crashed to the ground, barely able to cushion my head with my arms, and lay crumpled in a heap. I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, I felt like someone had filled my chest with fire. I gasped for air, and slowly I felt my life force return to me.

"Are you alright?" I felt a hand on my shoulder, and glanced up. A man knelt above me, dark hair and deep blue eyes. _Castiel. _

I bolted upright, out of instinct, and my vision flashed. I fell backward again, coughing, and Castiel caught me, gently propping me up on my elbows.

"Careful," he said. "You're weak."

I nodded, too tired to bother with a snarky comeback. "Thanks." I glanced to the side, and sure enough, there were Sam and Dean, Dean wiping blood off a knife. The demon lay dead at his feet.

After a moment I pushed myself up, ignoring Castiel's nervous hand on my arm. I wobbled slightly, then caught myself and stood again. I probably was staring.

"Are you ok?" Sam was looking at me now, concern evident in his eyes. I nodded, unable to speak. Either way, it seemed my wonder wasn't of importance. Sam was already looking around him with an appraising look. "Where are we anyway?"

"Upstate New York." My voice came out hoarse, not to mention painful. "You're in my high school."

"Well, let's just zap out of here." Dean said this, moving closer to Castiel. He had a much more disgusted look on his face, most likely remembering some rather unpleasant times in buildings much like these.

"Wait!" I stepped in between the triangle that the trio had made, holding up my hands. "It's not that simple."

"Don't worry, we do this sort of thing all the time." Sam gave me a soft smile, trying to provide me with enough comfort that I would leave. "You're safe."

"That's not it." I glanced back and forth between the three of them. Despite my near death and my wonder at seeing them, I still retained enough of a clear head to know they couldn't leave. "I know who you are. You're characters on a TV show I watch. You're in a different universe."

Dean cursed, then looked around like he expected someone to come whack him upside the head with a ruler. "Cas, did you-"

"No." Castiel's answer was brief, to the point. "This wasn't me."

"Then who did this?" Sam's mind was already analyzing the situation, running through a list of plausible candidates. "Who's powerful enough?"

"I don't know," said Dean, eyes narrowing. "But I think we have other problems right now."

A knife was in his hand again, I hadn't even seen him draw it. Slowly, I followed his gaze, knowing what I would see.

Four students stood still and silent in front of us. They could have been anyone, frozen in terror, except their eyes were black, and they were grinning.

Immediately Sam, Dean, and Castiel began to move towards them. My eyes widened, my heart rate increased. I knew what would happen now, I could see it, and I couldn't move, couldn't stop it. It wasn't their faults, they were just kids, kids possessed by demons, demons that weren't moving, weren't speaking, just standing there with those grins, and they would be dead, and there was nothing I could do.

_NO. _The thought raced through my mind, my panicked thoughts finally forming into a coherent word. Now I forced it from my mind and to my lungs and out, out and up, until it came out of my mouth in a single shout. "NO!"

Sam, Dean, and Castiel paused, but didn't turn to look at me. "They're demons," snarled Dean.

"They're kids," I protested. "They haven't had a chance to live yet. Exorcise the demons!"

"They'll just possess someone else, and kill people," argued Sam. "We can stop them, right here, right now."

"No."

I stared in shock as Castiel spoke. His knife was lowering, his hand at his side, the silver blade disappearing up his sleeve. "No Sam. I'm tired of the killing."

"Cas-" Sam began to argue, but whatever he said was cut off as Dean stepped forward.

"Exorcizamus te…" I sighed in relief as Dean began to recite the incantation. Rusty at first, from having not been used in years, the words were soon flowing smoothly. The demons snarled and writhed in place, pained by his words. Then they jumped forward, suddenly wielding blades that had been absent before.

Castiel and Sam managed to catch three of them, holding them in place as Dean continued to recite. Their smaller forms worked against them, allowing the two taller, well-built men to anchor them in place. The fourth continued on though, silver knife reaching for Dean's chest. Dean didn't notice, or didn't care, to enveloped in his recitation, too focused to mind the demon. Still it moved closer, closer, and I was already moving again, instinctively, slamming into the demon and knocking it to the ground, even as Dean finished the exorcism. As black smoke billowed around my head, I felt a stabbing pain, and everything went blank.


	2. Chapter 2

The first sensation to return to me was touch. Which meant I could feel pain.

Fantastic.

It felt like a million daggers were being driving into my shoulder at once, digging into the bone. I tried to scream, to thrash, but my muscles wouldn't move. I was trapped in my own body.

To distract myself from the pain I began to focus on anything else. The feel of my clothes around my skin, my torso and lower body covered in a blanket. I was in a bed somewhere. The question was, where?

Eventually, the pain began to move aside, pushed to the back burner. I found that while I had been concentrating on hiding from it, my hearing had returned. I could feel my movement returning as well, slowly and nowhere near steadily, but still returning.

I listened to what was around me, analyzing everything. There were birds somewhere- outside a window? There was an occasional creaking, someone shifting weight. Each motion they made caused my heart to beat faster. I had no idea who was there.

I remembered what had happened perfectly, though I was still having trouble digesting it. I had, while fighting off the daggers in my shoulder, analyzed the incident at the school, trying to convince myself that I wasn't insane. I knew I would need physical proof to affirm that.

However, finally, my movement was back. I tried to lift my eyelashes, failed, and tried again. The whole time I tried not to move anything else, least whoever was with me realized I was no longer unconscious. I didn't know what their intentions were.

Finally my lids stayed open, black lashes hovering at the top of my vision. I scanned around me, studying myself and the room I was in as well as I could without moving my head.

I was covered in a blanket up to the waist, rendering visible several bandages that tied my arm to my torso. Just thinking about my shoulder brought the pain to the forefront of my mind, so I began to study the room.

It was a simple motel room, with ugly beige walls and simple beds. Papers and an open computer were sitting on a small table in the corner. To the left of the bed I was on was the door, beside that a window stretched across the remainder of the wall. To my right was a nightstand, shared between the bed I rested on and the bed on its other side.

At the right of the room I heard a toilet flush, then the sound of running water. A minute later the bathroom door began to open, and I quickly shut my eyes. After a moment I heard someone sit at the table, and I chanced opening my eyes.

Before me sat Sam Winchester.

He was busy poring through whatever was on the laptop's screen, oblivious to the fact that I had woken. I was, of course, immensely glad that it was a Winchester and not a demon in the room with me. Then my second thought got rid of that gladness.

Deep down, at the root of the show, Sam, Dean, and Cas were not normal. They hunted things in the night, living neither in one world or the other, but hovering on the edge. It was a dangerous place to spend your life, and put one into a mindset that was becoming more and more obvious as the show went on. Deep down, at their very cores, these three men were at least part psychopaths.

I began to flex first my fingers and toes, moving gradually up my body. I wanted to be able to move, and move quickly, not stumble around like a drunk. As I began to move my torso around the bead creaked, and Sam turned.

I needed to act like I'd just woken up. I let myself flop on the bed, eyes fluttering, what I hoped was a terrified look on my face. Since I was pretty terrified, I was sure that wasn't too hard to pull off.

"Hey," Sam tried for a reassuring smile. "It's ok. I'm Sam. Do you remember what happened?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I hated the way my voice sounded. All raspy and hoarse. Sam grabbed a glass off the table and filled it with tap water, handing it to me cautiously. I drank, taking just a small sip at first, then gulping from the glass like the clear liquid inside was the only thing keeping me alive. I suppose it was.

"Thanks." I set the glass on the bedside table next to me, noticing how my arm was much weaker than I would have liked, and Sam nodded. He sat on the edge of the bed, ready to stand again if I showed signs of discomfort. I didn't object, and he let his large frame settle into a more comfortable position.

"What's your name?" he asked.

I gulped. Should I tell him my real name or not? While I doubted Sam, Dean, or Castiel would seek out my family, the demons they fought certainly would. But for all I knew this was a test, and Sam already knew. I decided honesty was the best policy.

"Lucy." I watched his eyes as I spoke, looking for signs of recognition; something to show that he already knew. "Lucy Greene."

Sam nodded. "I'm Sam Winchester," he said. He held out a hand, and tentatively I took it.

"I know," I said.

"Right." Sam stood and went to the laptop, tapping it softly. "I've been looking up the show you mentioned."

"What did you find?" I was curious, and more than a bit scared. I knew some fans could get a bit… eccentric. Sam however, didn't seem to mind too much. Or else he was good at hiding it.

"The show's spot on, though it's behind on events," he said. He said it simply, like we were discussing the weather and not how his life related into a TV show in a parallel universe.

I nodded. "Well, I figure that's better than it being ahead."

Sam frowned. "How do you figure?"

I shrugged. "If you know what the future is, you try to change it. Humans always do. You'd probably just end up screwing things up."

Sam looked indignant. "Thanks," he said. Sarcastically.

I smiled. "You asked."

I realized that by now I was sitting up in the bed, posture more relaxed than before. I hadn't even realized that I'd moved. Sam seemed to just be realizing this as well.

"How's your shoulder?" he asked. "I have painkillers if you need them."

I nodded. "Yeah, can I have those?" I gladly accepted the bottle, frowning as the child proof cap proved too much for me with only one good arm. With a chuckle Sam took it and twisted the cap off with ease, tossing it on the bed and pouring out a couple of pills for me. I swallowed them, leaning back against the headboard as I did so.

"What happened?" I asked. "I mean, after the exorcism?"

Sam frowned. "What do you remember?"

"I remember one of the demons jumping at Dean, and I tackled it." I paused, my memory had faded slightly here. "After that it's just a bunch of pain, then nothing."

Sam nodded. "You got stabbed in the shoulder, passed out. We didn't want to leave you there like that, so we took you with us. Bandaged you up."

I had so many questions. Where were we? Where were Dean and Castiel? When could I go home? Could I even go home? I decided to go with the first question that had popped into my head.

"Where are we?"

"A motel, a town or two over from yours. We had to get out of there, but we had to find a place to lay low quick. You were bleeding a lot."

I smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

Sam scoffed, settling back in the desk chair. "Don't be. I've seen worse. You're handling it well too."

"Thanks."

Sam nodded absentmindedly, distracted. I looked around the room.

"Where are Dean and Castiel?" I paused as I said Castiel's name. Should I call him Castiel or Cas? Was Cas an endearing name reserved just for the Winchesters?

"They went to keep an eye on your school. They should be back soon."

I frowned. "Why do they need to watch the school?"

"It's ground zero of- whatever the hell happened. We've gotta make sure nothing else happens there."

I nodded, it made sense. But wouldn't it be a lot easier for them to figure all this out from their own universe? Not that I didn't find it cool beyond belief that they were here, but I doubted they were enjoying themselves.

"Don't you have to go back to your universe?"

Sam nodded. "But first we need to figure out how. Which means figuring out how we got here in the first place. That's a bit complicated."

"Maybe I can help." I leaned forward in the bed. "I'm guessing I'm stuck with you lot for a while, right?"

Sam nodded. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's not safe for you to go back to your family. Not yet. As soon as we have all of this figured out you can go back, but right now there're demons loose, and they've seen you with us. You're their number one target. We'll keep you safe though, I promise."

I nodded. I'd expected some answer of that variety. Still, it felt like a punch to the stomach.

"What about my family?" I asked. "Are they safe?"

Sam sighed. "Hopefully. Most demons don't think to target families; but there's always a chance. Dean and Cas said they'd put some protections around your house while they were in town."

I nodded, picturing Dean and Castiel carving devil's traps into the doorframes of my house. The image, although amusing for some unknown reason, couldn't quite dispel the gnawing, clenching pain I felt at my dilemma. While I was digesting Sam's words the door to the room opened, and Dean and Castiel stepped in.

"Oh good, you're up." Dean dropped a McDonalds bag on the table, pulling out four burgers. "Here you go." He tossed me one, and I grabbed at it with my good hand.

We ate in silence, all four of us. Which I thought was strange, because I was pretty sure angels didn't eat. I decided it wasn't at the top of my list of priorities.

Dean was licking grease and ketchup off his fingers by now. "So," he said. "Who are you?"

"Lucy Greene," I said. Dean nodded, and I caught an almost imperceptible nod from Sam to him.

"Ok Lucy," Dean crumpled up his burger wrapper, tossing it at the trash bin. It bounced off the rim, landing on the floor. He made no move to pick it up. "Here's the deal. Apparently we're in a universe where not only are we characters on a TV show, but people actually watch that TV show. Which means we can't do much without drawing attention to ourselves. We need to know as much about this place as you can give us."

I blinked. "It's not much different from your world," I told him. "Just without all the supernatural stuff."

Dean nodded. "Was there anything weird going on in your school before we came through? Anything strange happening a few days before?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. One minute I was walking down the hall, the next I'm having a wrestling match with a creature I didn't even know existed."

"Demons are very real," Castiel cautioned me. "And very dangerous."

I nodded, not sure whether to gesture to the bruise I was sure was around my neck or to my shoulder first. "I know."

Castiel leaned back slightly. "Sorry."

"S'ok."

"Anyway." Dean looked slightly annoyed. He sighed, apparently deciding to change what he was going to say. "Listen kid-"

"Lucy."

"Right. Lucy. Listen Lucy, here's the thing. We have no idea what we're in to here, and no idea how to get back to our world. For your own safety you have to stay with us until we can get back, but then you can go back to your daily life and forget we ever existed. Until then, you need to help us."

I nodded. I wasn't sure how much help I would be, but I would try. "What do you need?"

"Nothing now." Castiel was shooting Dean a look, one that I was fairly sure amounted to _leave her alone. _"Right now you need to sleep and gain your strength back."

I nodded. I was feeling tired already. Healing from demon fights sure took a lot of energy. "And tomorrow?"

"We'll see what's going on then." Dean stood, moving to the fridge to grab another beer and settling on the other bed. He glanced over at me.

"Don't worry," he added. "We've got another room. Sam and I'll just hang out here for a bit, then we'll hit the sack."

I nodded, already falling back against the pillows, stifling a yawn.

"Just be quiet about it," I managed. Then I was asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"Lucy Greene is 17 years old, about 5 foot 4…"

I had been flipping through the TV when the headline on a news station caught my eye. It was an amber alert for me. I frowned, hitting the buttons that would bring me to several other news stations. Each had my picture flashing across the screen.

"Great." I hit the power button, tossing the remote on the bed. It had been twenty four hours since I'd woken up in the motel room; we were still there.

"What's wrong?" Castiel glanced over from the other bed, where he'd been sitting silently for the past couple of hours.

I sighed. "There're a bunch of amber alerts out on me. There's no way we're getting out of town without someone seeing me."

"You'll have to stay out of sight," he responded.

I sighed. In this day and age, that was more or less impossible.

"What are you doing over there?" I asked.

"Trying to listen to my brothers and sisters," Castiel told me. "There's an almost telepathic network, sound waves that only we can hear, that allow us to communicate."

"Yeah, I remember from the show. What are they saying?"

Castiel frowned. "I don't know. I don't hear anything."

"That's not good," I commented. "Did you stop hearing things when you crossed to this universe?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes," he said.

"Well, we just have to get you back to your universe, and problem solved." I gave Castiel an encouraging smile. He didn't return it.

I sighed. He was much better with people than he had been when he'd first met Sam and Dean, but he still was a bit of a social lummox. Strangely enough, his social awkwardness had increased slightly when he'd finally gotten his own grace back and restored heaven. I'd learned in the past day that the Winchester trio had managed to get heaven back to normal- or as close as was possible- though they hadn't wanted to go into details about how. I sensed that it wasn't a pleasant tale. It generally wasn't with them.

"Can I ask you something?" I waited for Castiel to nod before continuing. "What should I call you?"

Castiel blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Well, Sam and Dean call you Cas and other angels and demons call you Castiel, but I'm neither. What should I call you?"

Castiel looked uncomfortable. "Do you want to call me Cas?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I dunno. I feel like I should, cos that's how Sam and Dean always refer to you; it's how I know you. But if that's just for the two of them I'm good with just calling you Castiel." I felt my cheeks redden with embarrassment. I really needed to shut up.

"You can call me Cas," he said. "I think I prefer it now." A puzzled look came over his face, as though his words had surprised him.

I nodded. "Ok Cas." I sent him a small smile, and for once he returned it.

"You're very comfortable around us," he noted.

I smiled, fighting- and failing- to keep my cheeks from reddening again. "I'm generally not around new people. But I already know you three, and it's hard to remember that you don't know a thing about me."

Cas nodded. "I think that there'll be much time for us to learn about you."

Before I could respond the door opened.

"Hey, did you see the news?" asked Sam.

I nodded. "Yeah, what are we gonna do about it?"

"We'll have to sneak you out to the car when we leave, keep under the radar." Dean dragged a chair away from the table and sat in it. "Don't worry, we've got experience avoiding the cops."

"Yeah," I chortled. "Are you two considered on the run still, or do the police think you died again?"

"I honestly don't know." Sam let out a short laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Anyways, we need to have a plan for when we do leave. Are you ok to hit the road tonight?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Just drive around the potholes."

Sam and Dean smiled, nodding.

"Sam'll check out, and then we'll leave. I figure we get out of the state, head south," Dean informed me.

"Why south?" I asked.

Dean shrugged. "There's plenty of south to drive through. We'll work through what's going on as we move, until we figure it out."

"Are we going to drive in circles around the U.S. until we do figure this out?" I asked.

"Pretty much." Dean sent me a small smirk, and I snickered.

"I don't see a better option," commented Sam.

"There won't be until we know what's going on," added Cas. His eyebrows were creased with confusion. I could tell he didn't like not knowing. Not that the rest of us were particularly enjoying it.

"Alright, let's go South," I agreed. Around the room there were nods. "What _have _you guys figured out yet?"

Sam sighed. "Not much of anything," he admitted. "We haven't found lore on anything that can open wormholes between universes, and we don't know anyone back from our universe who has that sort of power."

"There's gotta be something we're missing," objected Dean. By now he had a beer in hand, and was setting another one in front of Sam. He looked annoyed, like he'd spent the whole day pouring through dead end legends.

"Have you tried the weather?" I asked.

"What?"

"The weather, current events. Maybe there's a pattern that points here, and another will turn up that'll point somewhere else," I explained.

Sam and Dean gaped at me. "That's brilliant," said Sam. He jumped up, throwing open the door. "I'll be right back."

"Good work." Dean raised his beer in a salute before taking a sip. Then he leaned back against the table. "So, what have you been talking about?"

"Names," responded Cas. Dean's eyebrows shot up.

"I wasn't sure if he wanted me to call him Castiel or Cas," I hurried to explain. Dean nodded, though I'm not sure if he believed me.

"Ok." Sam shut the door behind him, laptop in hand. I watched as he logged in, pulling up the internet. Within a minute he was scrolling through articles on weather patterns.

He glanced up after a few minutes. "This is gonna take a while," he commented."

"Yeah, I kinda figured." Dean sighed and stood. "I'll get some food. What are we going for tonight?"

I glanced around, waiting for the others to respond. Cas seemed to be doing the same.

"Let's go for ribs," Sam shot over his shoulder. "Like the kind Bobby used to make."

"Oh, yeah, I could go for those." Dean pulled his jacket on. "I think I saw a barbecue place around here somewhere. Are ribs good with you?"

I shrugged my good arm. "Sure," I said. "I could go for some ribs."

Dean nodded and slipped out the door, leaving us in an awkward silence broken only by the sound of Sam clicking through the laptop.

"Do you have another computer?" I asked. "I could help."

Sam shook his head. "No," he said. "Thanks though."

I sighed and nodded. I was tired of sitting in bed, but I knew that I couldn't leave the motel yet. There was too great a risk that I'd be recognized. I checked my watch; it read 4:46. Time for more pain pills. I caught Cas watching me as I unscrewed the bottle's lid.

"I'm sorry," he said when our eyes met. "I would heal you if I could, but none of my abilities work in this universe. I'm too cut off from heaven."

I nodded. "I figured. It's ok."

Cas nodded, though he still looked upset.

I slumped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was plain white, without even any cracks for me to follow. I started to drum out a beat on my leg with my good arm.

"You're upset," commented Cas. I turned my head to look at him.

"No I'm not, I'm bored," I responded. Cas frowned.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Not unless you've got an X-box hidden somewhere," I said.

"What's an X-box?"

"It's a gaming system," I told him. "Either way, I can't really play right now." I glanced down at my arm, which was in a makeshift sling. I was wearing clothes that I'd sent Dean out for that morning; baggy jeans and a plaid shirt. Taking a shower and getting dressed had been hell, but I'd refused to ask for help, instead taking twenty minutes just to get dressed. Cas had needed to put my hair in a ponytail for me, though I'd tried to do it myself for nearly a half hour before giving up.

Cas stood, making his way over to my bed and grabbing the remote. Flipping on the channels, he stopped when he got to a news station, glancing at me. I nodded my approval.

By now my amber alert was no longer flashing across the screen, but there was a report of a double homicide in West Virginia. Cas and I watched the report vaguely, only half paying attention until the reporter mentioned how a woman had been found dead within feet of where the couple had been found. At this I glanced over to Sam, who had started looking at the tv as well.

"Does it sound like something you deal with?" I asked. Sam shrugged.

"Could be," he said. "I thought there weren't supernatural things in this universe though."

"There aren't," commented Cas. "I would have felt heaven here if there were."

"Maybe it leaked over," I suggested.

"Huh?" Sam looked confused.

"Maybe some sort of, I dunno, supernatural mojo leaked its way from your universe to this one," I suggested. "Now supernatural stuff is gonna start happening here."

Sam frowned. "Maybe," he muttered. "We're heading south anyways, we might as well check it out."

I nodded, turning my attention back to the TV. A bit of time later- I'm not sure how long after- Dean came through the door, looking worried.

"I think we need to leave," he said.

"What's wrong?" Sam glanced towards the door behind Dean, already standing.

"_Fans._" Dean cringed. "They recognized me from that show."

"Did they come up to you?" asked Sam?"

Dean nodded.

"What did you do?"

Dean threw his hands in the air. "I played along. I figured it would be better for them to tweet about some actor dude being in New York than for them to say his look alike was here."

I nodded. "Probably." I could imagine a demon tearing through the town, searching us out.

"Let's get out of here." Sam grabbed his computer and grabbed the last few beers out of the fridge. "Did you buy a cooler?" he asked.

"Yeah." Dean opened the door again. "You two, get ready to roll. There's a bag in the corner Lucy. Put your stuff in it."

I stood, grabbing my clothes from the table and shoving them in. Then I made my way to the bathroom, wiping off the shampoo, conditioner, and razor that Dean had bought and adding them to the bag. A moment later pads and tampons joined them, as well as a hair brush and package of hair ties. I had been a bit impressed that morning when Dean had come back with it all- he'd thought of everything except a good book.

I reached for my pocket to check for my phone, remembering a moment later that I no longer had a phone. It had been in my back pack at school.

I sat on the bed, struggling to pull on black boots. A moment later Cas was kneeling in front of me, tying the laces.

"Thanks," I muttered.

Cas nodded and grabbed my bag from the bed. "Let's go."

Sam and Dean were emerging from their room, Sam carrying their bags and Dean lugging a mini cooler. He led us to a black jeep a few meters away, and we shoved our stuff in the back.

A minute later we were on the road, me pretending that I wasn't bothered by the quick hot wiring Dean had done on the jeep. I knew it was necessary, but it still seemed wrong.

"Let's head to West Virginia," suggested Sam. Dean glanced over at him.

"How come?" he asked.

"There could be a case."

"We can't work a case now," admonished Dean. "We've got too much other stuff going on."

"Since when does that stop us?" Sam pulled out his phone, typing in a search for directions. "Come on, we're heading south anyways."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, but there's no supernatural stuff going on here," he said. "Besides us that is."

Sam explained my theory to Dean. The older brother listened quietly, but I could tell he was impressed. A minute later Sam was relating the details of the case to him.

Dean shrugged. "Alright," he said. "It can't hurt. But we've gotta be careful with this," he warned. "People are gonna start recognizing us. And you're not getting involved." He shot a glance back at me.

"Why not?" I asked. "I can help!"

"Not with that arm you can't." Dean pulled into an empty parking lot. "I'm hungry. Let's eat before we leave the city."

Sam rolled his eyes and started dishing out the food.

Everyone except Cas ate; we put him in charge of handing out napkins when needed, which was quite often. A half hour later we returned to the road, Sam turning on the GPS on his phone.

I glanced behind me. This was it. I was leaving. I wasn't anywhere near home, but I'd been unconscious when I'd been brought here. Now I was making a conscious choice to leave. I held back tears of guilt, telling myself that I would see my family again. I wasn't sure if I was lying.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh thank god." I threw open the door of the car and stood, walking back and forth to stretch my legs. "We need to stop for more breaks."

Dean snickered as he watched me. "You get used to it," he said. I shook my head.

"Come on." Sam pulled the cooler out of the car. "Let's get inside before anyone sees us." He pulled four room cards out of his pocket, handing one to each of us. Together, the four of us approached the motel rooms, Sam leading us to numbers 4 and 5.

"Sam and I will take one room, Lucy and Cas, you take the other," instructed Dean. "No pillow fights."

I rolled my eyes, making sure he saw. Then I jabbed the key card into the door.

The room was nearly identical to the motel room I'd woken up in. I set my bag on the first bed and pulled out a granola bar. We'd eaten on the road a couple of hours ago, but I was hungry again.

"Let's go to Dean and Sam's room," suggested Cas. I nodded and followed him to the next room, checking to make sure that no one was around before slipping in.

Sam already had the computer out, and was looking up the case we'd come to check out. I sat on one of the beds next to Cas while Dean leaned against the wall. It seemed like we were stuck waiting.

"I don't think we're getting anything this way," Sam said a few minutes later. "We'll have to go to the site."

"We need an EMF detector," commented Dean. He scowled at nothing in particular, looking around as though he thought one would appear out of nowhere.

"Can you make one?" I asked.

"Yeah," said Sam. "But we don't have anything to make it with."

"What do you need?" asked Cas. Dean grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down a list, and a moment later the angel was gone.

I turned to the two brothers. "If he has wings, why are we driving everywhere? Why not just fly. It'd be a lot faster."

"Because it messes with my stomach," said Dean. "I hate flying, even if it is by scrawny nerd angels."

I snickered. "Right, afraid to fly. I forgot." I shot him what I hoped was an evil look, and he scowled.

"You two are five year olds," commented Sam.

"But you've got the hair," Dean threw at him.

Dean and I locked eyes. "You hold him down and I'll cut it off?" I suggested. Dean chortled. Sam didn't look amused.

"Here." Cas appeared next to me with an armful of stuff. He dumped it on the bed; wires and little metal pieces and duct tape. Dean grinned and got to work.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked. I was getting pretty frustrated, not being able to do anything. Dean barely glanced over at me as he responded.

"Nope," he said. "Not much to do right now."

I sighed. "I'll be in my room." I let the door thud shut behind me.

Back in the room I clambered onto my bed and turned on the TV. As I was flipping through the channels Cas came in, closing the door softly behind him. He stood uncertainly in front of the bed, until I looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

"You're mad," he stated.

"I'm frustrated," I corrected him. "I'm useless."

Cas frowned and sat beside me. "That's not true," he said. "You've had good ideas about how to get home."

"None of which are necessarily true," I pointed out.

"They were still good ideas," said Cas.

"Thanks." I turned to face him. "You guys never did say, how did you end up here?"

Cas's eyes unfocused as he recalled what had happened.

"It was an old warehouse in Montana," Cas told me. "I could feel that there was something off with the area, so I went there. There were many demons. I managed to escape and went to Dean and Sam, and we took the warehouse. While we were fighting I could feel something happen, some sort of anomaly, and a moment later one of the demons disappeared. We followed it, and ended up in your school. You know the rest."

I nodded, remembering the sensation of being thrown through the air without ever being touched, of looking into those black eyes. I shook myself out of the memory.

"Well, you should be able to feel when another wormhole opens up then, right?" I asked.

"I don't know," whispered Cas. "I'm cut off from heaven here. I might not be able to."

I reached over and squeezed his arm. "Don't worry," I said. "We'll figure it out."

We were silent for a moment, then I stood, grabbing the pen and paper left on the nightstand and moving to the table. I pulled my legs up under me as Cas came to stand over my shoulder.

"Ok," I said. "Tell me everything you remember about the area around the warehouse. What was the weather like? What's it generally like there? Have there been any news worthy events there recently?"

Cas thought, adopting that confused puppy dog face that I loved. "The weather was fine," he said. "It was sunny out. I don't think anything's happened there. I didn't do any research on the area."

"Did the other two?" I asked.

"I don't think so."

"Do you think you can find it again?" I asked. Cas nodded.

"Why?"

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe the wormhole that'll take you home will turn up there. In this universe's version of the warehouse."

Cas nodded. "That makes sense," he said. "We should let Dean and Sam know."

I stood. "Why? If it was just you and me we'd already be at that warehouse."

"But it's not just us," objected Cas. "And besides, we're in the middle of a case."

I sighed. "Fine," I grumbled.

Dean was finishing up with his new toy when we got back to their room, grinning proudly as he tweaked a few buttons.

"All done," he crowed. "We're good to go."

"What about weapons?" I asked.

Dean pointed to a duffel bag on his bed. "I bought some stuff last night," he said.

"Bought?" I asked. "Where'd you get the money?" I zipped open the bag and inspected its contents; guns, knives, lighters, and salt. In the corner of the room I could see a jug of gas.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine. Cas and I broke into a shop and stole this stuff. Either way, we're set.

"We should get going." Sam glanced at his watch. "There're only a few hours till dawn."

Dean nodded. "Let's go then." He stopped at the door and glanced back at me.

"I know, I know, stay here." I tried to cross my arms, then thought better of it and settled for a glare.

"I'll stay with her," promised Cas. Dean nodded, Sam waved, and then they were gone.

"Well," I turned to Cas. "That went well."

Cas leveled a _don't start _look at me. "We'll tell them when they get back," he promised. I rolled my eyes.

"It would be nice if we had a bit more to go on," I said. "Maybe if we went there ourselves…" As I reached the door I heard Cas sigh behind me.

We ended up in our room, ordering a movie. Towards the end we heard a car pull up outside, and a moment later Sam and Dean slipped into the room.

"So, do we have a case?" I asked.

"Oh yeah." Sam sat at the table, leaning back in the chair. Dean wagged the EMF detector.

"You should've heard the noise this thing was making," he said. "Whatever's there, it's strong."

"Tomorrow we'll have to head to the police department, get what they have on the two murders," said Sam. Beside me Cas nodded.

"Lucy had another idea," he said.

"Yeah?" Sam glanced over to me. "What is it?"

"Cas said that you found the original wormhole in a warehouse in Montana. Maybe your way home is there."

"Maybe," Sam glanced at Dean. "It's worth a shot."

"Definitely," agreed Dean. "We'll check it out when we're done here." He glanced behind him to where the TV sat. "What are you watching?"

"_The Notebook_."

Dean made a face. "Nope. I'm out. Goodnight." He gave a half wave as he headed for the door, and with a chuckle, Sam followed.

"Night," he called.

"Goodnight," I responded.

Cas turned to me. "So he's reading the book to her to get her to remember who she is?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yep."

"Why wouldn't he just tell her?" he asked.

"Would you believe some random person who came up to you and said the two of you were married?" I asked. "Besides, it's romantic."

Cas remained silent. Apparently he didn't agree.

The next day when we woke Sam had already picked up breakfast. We ate in silence, still unsure what to say around each other. Probably as a result of the added estrogen to the room.

Cas and I were left to our own devices during the day. We ended up ordering another movie. This time I chose _How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days._ Cas found about as much sense in it as he did in _The Notebook._

A few hours later we got a call from Sam. The couple that had been murdered, the man in that relationship had been having an affair with the first victim. Sam and Dean figured that he'd killed her to keep her quiet, and his wife had confronted him at the scene of the crime. While they'd fought, his mistress's ghost had killed them.

"Her body's still in the morgue though," said Sam. "So we're sneaking it out. We'll take it out of town and burn it."

I frowned. It was the middle of the day. I did _not _see that going well.

"Do you need help?" asked Cas.

"No, we should be good."

I rolled my eyes. "See you later then." With an angry flourish I hung up the phone.

Cas eyed me. "That wasn't necessary," he said.

"Please," I admonished. "They think I'm useless, which, yeah, maybe I am right now, but I'm tired of being babysat. And that's all you're doing! If I wasn't here, they'd have told you to get over there and help them. In fact, you'd never have been sitting here all day!"

Cas sighed. "Maybe you're right," he said. "But Dean and Sam know what they're doing. We need to trust them."

"Or we can get some stuff done on our own," I suggested. "Let's go check out the warehouse. You can fly; we'll be back before they've got the body to their car. Unless you want to watch some more chick flicks."

Cas looked slightly scared at the prospect. "It's not safe for you to go," he said.

"Well it's not safe for me here," I said. "I don't think it's safe anywhere. That's why you're playing nanny. As long as we're stuck together, we might as well be productive."

Cas sighed. "Fine," he said. "But stay by me. And do as I say."

"Yes sir." I gave him a salute. Cas reached out and tapped my shoulder, and a moment later the motel room vanished.

We were standing inside a factory. Or at least what used to be one. Leftover machine bodies stood lining the floor, a few bits of metal scattered here and there. There was plenty of dust, and more than enough cobwebs for my comfort. But as far as I could see, there were no wormholes.

I looked over to Cas. The angel was spinning slowly in a circle, taking in the abandoned warehouse we stood in. His eyes combed up and down the walls, ceiling to floor.

"Anything?" I asked. Cas shook his head.

"Nothing."

I nodded. "Alright. That doesn't mean anything," I said. "Maybe it just hasn't opened back up again. Or maybe we're in the wrong place."

Cas looked at me and I frowned. He looked uncertain. "What?" I asked.

Cas sighed. "Are we sure that it will open up again?"

I felt my gut wrench. "I'm sure it will," I assured him. "We're gonna get you home. All three of you."

Cas nodded. I doubted that he believed me, but I hoped that at least he felt reassured. At least a little.

"Let's go," he said. I nodded.

"You did what?" Dean paused in pulling off his boots, straightening his back to glare at me.

"We went to the warehouse," I said. "To check for wormholes."

"What the hell were you thinking? That place could have been filled with demons!"

"We were careful," I snapped. "We decided to do something for ourselves, instead of waiting around for you to dish out orders!"

Dean blanched as though I'd hit him.

"Is that what you think of me?" he asked. "Do you think I'm just ordering you around? If you've got a problem with me, by all means, let me know! Don't go tiptoeing around on my account!"

I opened my mouth to do just that, but Sam jumped in.

"Whoa, guys, calm down a minute," he said. "Let's not do this."

We both ignored him. "Well?" asked Dean.

"I'm not a child," I growled. "I can handle myself. I'm tired of being told to sit tight and wait for you to get back. I want to do things. I want to help! Otherwise, what am I even doing here?"

"You're right." Dean's face set. "What are you doing here? You can leave anytime you want. If you've got such a problem, why don't you just go?"

I took a step back. I hadn't expected him to do that. But his jaw was firmly set; he wasn't backing down.

Suddenly I felt an onrush of anger and humiliation take over me. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, and knew that a minute later there would be tears in my eyes. I needed to get out of there.

"Thanks for the help Cas." The angel's eyes were downcast as I stalked towards the door, slamming it shut behind me. Behind me I could hear Dean start to lay into Cas.

A few minutes later Cas slipped back into our room. I was laying on my side, facing away from the door, so the first I saw of him was the flap of his trench coat as he moved to stand in front of me.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I snapped. I took a deep breath. "Sorry."

"It's alright." Cas sat on the edge of the bed. "He doesn't really want you to leave," he said. "None of us do."

"I know." I turned over so that I could see him better. "It's just… I miss my family. And my friends. And I don't know when I'll see them again, or if I even will. And I'm tired of not being able to do anything." I shot a glare down at my arm.

I glanced up as Cas's hand came to rest on my shoulder. He had a strained look developing on his face, like he was trying to lift a boulder. A minute later his hand fell away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I can't do anything. I wish-"

"It's not your fault," I said. "I'm the one who got myself stabbed."

"That wasn't your fault," Cas objected. I didn't respond.

A knock sounded at the door. A moment later Dean poked his head through.

"Hey," he said. "Can I talk to Lucy for a minute?"

Cas glanced over at me, and with a scowl I nodded. The angel rose, and a moment later the door closed behind him. Dean and I were alone.

He stood awkwardly in the entrance, looking like he was seriously regretting coming in. I raised my eyebrows.

"If you have something to say then say it. Otherwise get out."

Dean sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have yelled." He sighed and sat at the edge of my bed, all the way at the bottom. "And I'm sorry if you feel like I'm not letting you do anything."

"That's because you're not," I muttered. Dean glared at me for a second.

"You got stabbed," he said. "You need to heal. Once you've healed I'll let you do what you want. But I can't have you putting yourself in harm's way when you're already hurt. Besides," he added. "Everyone's looking for you. Right now if you do anything you'll be recognized immediately. But by the time you've healed the search for you will have faded."

I winced. I didn't like to be reminded of the fact. Each day I stayed away, each minute I chose to stay with the Winchesters, I hurt my family a bit more. I didn't know how I would be able to look them in the eyes when this was all over. And besides that, by the time it was over, they'd have stopped looking for me. They'd have moved on. Forgotten me.

Dean saw my face change. "Sorry," he said. "Bad way to put it."

"It's ok," I said. "I already knew it. I probably needed to hear it."

Dean nodded. "I am sorry," he repeated. "And in a while, you can help all you want. Just get better first."

I nodded. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"S'ok." Dean stood, clearly uncomfortable now. "You should've seen Sam as a kid. His tantrums were bad."

I snickered.

"We good?" Dean asked.

I nodded. "We're good."

I followed Dean back to his room, where Cas was peering over Sam's shoulder at the computer screen. They looked up as we came in, and Sam and Dean exchanged nods.

"I think we've got another case," said Sam. "This one's in North Dakota."

Dean glanced at his watch. "We've got time before the sun sets, do you wanna hit the road now?"

Sam nodded. "Might as well," he said. He passed the computer to Dean. "You two read up on the case. Cas and I'll get the car ready."

Dean sat at the table with the computer, positioning it so that I could see. A high school girl had been found dead with her wrists slit. The thing was, there was no knife found where she'd died. And the room locked from the inside. There was no way anyone could have gotten in and out.

In the car we discussed how we would gather information on the case. Dean and Sam were hoping to be able to pose as police detectives again.

"What will you do if that doesn't work?" I asked. "Can you go undercover at her school?"

"We've done it before," said Sam.

"Yeah, but that was before you were the look alikes of famous actors," I reminded him.

"Well there's still an amber alert out on you," said Dean. I sighed.

They continued to plan, to plot, stopping at a drive through along the way. I spent the hours staring out the car window, until finally I let the steady motion of trees passing by lull me to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

I flipped open Sam's laptop, logging in and pulling up a search on the girl who had died.

Her name was Sarah Brooke; she had been in high school. Several news sources gave me some information; she was a junior, not in any clubs, and had received average grades. Nothing stood out about her.

Next I tried her twitter. There were selfies, retweets about this or that amusing thing, and little comments that she'd written herself. And they weren't good. This girl had not known how to keep her mouth shut. It seemed that every time a teacher pissed her off she would make some very obnoxious, very obvious remark on twitter. The same went for students she didn't like. Some of the things she'd said were downright mean.

Cas happened to look over my shoulder as I scrolled past a picture of Sarah, leaning forward in front of the camera so that her shirt dropped open, her lips pursed in a bright red pucker face. Dark eyes were thoroughly covered in makeup, and strands of her dark hair hung into her face.

Cas seemed to stumble back in surprise and fright, a confused and horrified look on his face.

"What is wrong with her lips?" he asked. "Does she need a doctor?"

I chuckled. "She's dead, Cas," I said. His face grew more alarmed.

"Relax," I reassured him. "It wasn't from her guppy imitation. She's the girl whose death we're here to investigate."

Cas nodded and sat beside me. "Right," he said. "What have you found?"

I shrugged. "Nothing much. Probably half the girls at her school would have had motive to kill her, but we're only here because whatever killed her isn't something that can be cuffed." I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "Have you heard from Sam or Dean?"

"No." Cas peered at the computer again, and I saw him do a quick imitation of Sarah's guppy face. A moment later Cas's cell phone buzzed, and I grabbed it. The text read one word.

_Poughkeepsie._

"Shit." I flipped the computer shut and grabbed my bag, thankful that I hadn't started unpacking yet. "We gotta beat it."

Cas glanced up in confusion. "Why?"

I waved his phone in the air before tossing it to him. "Dean just texted. Poughkeepsie. Drop everything and run."

Cas nodded and stood, grabbing his bag. He vanished, reappearing a moment later with the things Sam and Dean had left in the room next door.

"Do you know how to hot wire a car?" I asked.

"No." Cas frowned. "Do you?"

"Nope, but I'm about to learn how." I picked a car at random and set my bag down, gauging the vehicle. It was a tan sudan, with one of those family member stickers on the side window: two guys, one kid, and one dog. With a sigh, I jabbed my elbow out; it smashed against the window.

"Ow," I muttered. I scowled at the glass, still intact, and positioned myself in a better way. I had never tried to break a window before; had always been careful not to. I needed to let go of that now.

I threw my elbow back, hard. This time I heard a shattering behind me, and I made a small sound of pain as little pieces of glass embedded themselves in my arm. As I stepped away from the car Cas seized my elbow.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. Fine." I stuck my arm back through, unlocking the door from the inside and throwing it open. I then attempted to peel open the compartment under the driver's wheel with my fingers. It didn't work.

"Here." Cas jabbed his knife, the triple edged one, into the compartment and pried it open. I glared at him. It hadn't occurred to him to give that to me when I was breaking the window?

I slid down in the seat so that I could see the wires better. There were a jumble of them under there.

"Do we have any more knives?" I asked. Cas nodded, grabbing the bag that the weapons were stored in. "Something small," I called. A moment later he had returned with a silver pocket knife.

"Perfect," I said. I used the knife to cut carefully at the rubber coating on the wires, guessing I wasn't supposed to cut the wires themselves. With only one good arm, the job was more than a little tricky. I began to touch the wires together, wincing in half expectation of being electrocuted. After a minute the car roared to life.

"Alright!" I straightened up and began to adjust the mirrors. "Hop in. Let's get outta here."

"You're injured," Cas pointed out. "I'm driving."

I rolled my eyes, but scooted over. A moment later the angel was in the driver's seat.

"Give me your phone," I said.

"Why?"

"Whenever Sam and Dean get split up they meet up at the first motel in the phone book," I explained. "Since no one uses those anymore, it'll probably be the first motel that Google gives us. Didn't they tell you that?"

Cas nodded and pulled his phone from his pocket, handing it over. "They did. I forgot." He frowned, wondering, as I was, how he could not remember.

"Are you ok?" I asked.

"Fine," he replied. I couldn't help but feel that it was a lie.

Ten minutes we pulled into the parking lot of the Washington Inn. As we circled around the small motel, Sam poked his head out the door of one of the rooms and waved at us. Cas parked the car and grabbed our bags.

"Did you break the window?" Sam peered around us at our stolen ride as we made our way to the room.

"How else were we supposed to get in?" I asked. "We're lucky I figured out how to hotwire it."

"Dude, I taught you how to do that." Dean was leveling a _what the hell? _look in Cas's direction. Cas ignored him and brushed past.

"Lucy hurt her elbow breaking the window," he commented. "She'll need it looked at."

Sam grabbed my arm. "Yeah, let's get that cleaned." He shut the door, helping me pull my jacket and shirt off. I was left standing in the middle of the hotel room in my tank top.

"Hurry up." I winced as I held my arm out behind me. It was getting heavy, and the position did not feel nice with the gashes on my arm.

"You're the one who shoved your arm through a car window," commented Sam. He held a needle in one hand, a gauze pad in the other that he was using to dab at blood.

I yelped at the needle bit into my flesh, then thought I was going to throw up as I felt it drag dental floss through my skin. I didn't dare look behind me at my arm.

"Did you get out of the other motel ok?" asked Dean.

"There weren't any problems," said Cas.

"Done." Sam stepped back, and with a relieved groan I pulled my shirt back on. "How's your shoulder feeling?"

"Good." I moved my left arm around in its sling; Cas had stolen one from a hospital for me. I winced slightly as I did. "It's coming around."

Dean nodded. "You're lucky the demon didn't get it very far into your shoulder."

I nodded. "Plus I heal fast."

"Why did we have to leave the motel we were at?" asked Cas.

"We went to where they found the vic. and tried to pass off as cops, but someone recognized us from that show." Dean scowled. "This is starting to get annoying. We barely got out of there without being arrested."

I frowned. "So what are we gonna do now?" I asked.

"I don't know," admitted Dean.

"Maybe I could-" I started, but Dean cut me off.

"Don't even think about it," he ordered.

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up and listen. Schools keep the entrances unlocked during class changes, so kids can take shortcuts outside. I can slip in during a change, ask questions, and slip out again before anyone notices."

"Yeah, but your face is plastered all over the news," interjected Sam. "Someone would recognize you."

I shook my head. "Not necessarily. Teachers might, but students don't really pay attention to the news. As long as I don't do anything stupid, no one will notice me."

Sam locked eyes with Dean. "It's our best option," he said. "That crime scene's pretty well guarded; I'm not sure we'll be able to sneak back in."

"Did you find anything before you were made?" asked Cas.

"We got an EMF reading," said Dean. "There's definitely something there."

I glanced at my watch. "We'll have a better idea what tomorrow; it's past the time schools let out."

Dean nodded. "Right now we need to figure out sleeping arrangements anyway. This was the last room available. We're all stuck here tonight."

I grimaced. This was not going to end well. "I am _not_ sharing a bed with any of you," I stated. "No offense."

"None taken." Sam patted the bed he was sitting on, the one closest to the door. "Dean and I can share this one."

"And I don't sleep," added Cas.

"Then we're set." I ignored Dean's exasperated look at having to share a tiny motel bed with his moose of a brother and crawled onto the second bed, grabbing the remote. A moment later I was trying to find a news station.

"Well, there's nothing on here about you two," I said, skimming the headlines. "That's good. Oh, look at this." A new headline had just come on. Another girl had been found, killed in the same way as the first; wrists slit in her bedroom.

I whistled. "The last one died where again?" I asked.

"Abandoned warehouse in town," said Dean. "There were a few stubs there, and I don't mean from cigarettes."

My eyebrows rose. "Lovely," I commented dryly.

"What's the connection though?" asked Sam.

"They probably went to the same school," I offered.

"You think the ghost is picking out victims at the school?" asked Cas.

I nodded. "Possibly. I was looking on Sarah Brooke's twitter; she wasn't the nicest. What do you want to bet the same was true of this one: Addison Devras?"

"I'll look into it." Sam grabbed his laptop from the bags Cas had carried in, flipping it open. "You might not even need to go to the school tomorrow."

"Yes she does." Dean sighed and pulled the EMF detector out of his bag. "If our not so friendly ghost is picking up targets at the school, you'll get a reading off this. In between classes I want you to wander around the school, see what you can pick up."

I nodded. "How does it work?"

I hovered by the side entrance to the school, my bag slung over my shoulder. To make my look a bit more convincing, we had stuffed my bag with Sam's laptop and their dad's journal. I had declined adding the playboy magazines that Dean kept in his bags to my meager disguise.

I had been mesmerized when Dean had pulled out the old leather journal that had been left to them by their father. Part of me hadn't believed that they still carried it with them. Or at least doubted that they would have it in this universe. But apparently it went everywhere with them. Even now I had to fight to keep from pulling out the old book and flipping through its pages. In them were meager drawings etched out in pencil, followed by John's sharp edged writing. He had filled entire pages with notes, supplemented by article clippings. Here and there I could see notes added to his work by Sam and Dean, and towards the back the brothers had even added some new entries of their own. It really was something.

The bell rang inside, pulling me out of my reverie. I pulled the earbuds to the EMF detector up and stuck them in my ears, pulling out the small device on the end of the wire and holding it at waist level. I hoped I wouldn't seem too out of place with it. I was relying completely on humanity's obliviousness.

I made my way through the halls, glancing down at the EMF detector. The needle wavered slightly, but not by much. I ended up by the cafeteria, where students were starting to flood in. A commotion down the hall caught my attention.

Two girls stood in the center of the hallway, laughing. But it wasn't the good natured laugh that I'd often shared with my own friends, or even with the Winchester trio. This was laughter at the expense of someone else.

That someone else happened to be a small girl with dark hair. She was backed against the wall, and although no one seemed to be keeping her there, she was making no move to escape as the pair of girls continued to mock her for something.

Anger welled up inside me, and I started forward, but someone grabbed my arm.

"Don't," whispered the person. She was around my age, with blonde hair and a bit of a chunky frame. "There's no stopping them. You'll just make yourself some enemies."

I frowned and pulled out my earbuds. "Are they always like this?" I asked. The girl nodded.

"Pretty much. They've been worse since Sarah Brooke died. They were friends. Sarah was their ring leader too. But I guess Heather filled the spot nicely." The girl glanced back over to the pair laughing, and yes, one did seem to be in charge.

"That's not right," I said. "What about the other girl? Addison Devras? Was she friends with them?"

The girl beside me shrugged. "They weren't close, just the kind of fake closeness that two teenage girls competing for the top of the social hierarchy can impersonate."

"Was she this bad?" I gestured back to the girls, who had by now- thankfully- moved on from the girl and were moving towards the cafeteria.

"Worse, actually," said the girl. She smiled. "Sorry, what's your name?"

I gulped, my mind backpedaling. I could almost see red lights go off inside my skull.

"Martha," I blurted out. "Martha Underhill."

The girl smiled. "I'm Nancy Trione." She glanced at the cafeteria doors. "You headed to lunch?"

"Nah." I did my best to sound nonchalant. "I've got to head that way." I gestured behind me, towards where I'd first come into the school. "See you around."

I didn't wait for Nancy to respond, bolting away. Everything, I knew, had turned out fine, but I still didn't like having to lie. I felt uneasy, like at any second the cops were going to turn up. Or worse, a demon.

An idea occurred to me, and I slinked into the back hallway where the Sarah Brooke's friends had been teasing the one girl. The EMF needle shot up.

I grinned, tracing my way along all the shortcuts and back hallways I could find in the school until the bell rang for classes to start. Cursing, I darted into the nearest bathroom, locking myself in one of the stalls. I stayed there until classes ended. It was now the end of the day, and students were filing out the door. Caught up in their excitement to get out of school, no one noticed as I continued to trace my way through the back halls. There were quite a few. In each one the EMF needle went up.

Finally I went to the library. Walking the back routes and taking the shortcuts were fine when you had no friends and wanted to get to class quickly, but that didn't help you at all during lunch. The go to place for the nonpopular kids to hide seemed to be the library.

As soon as I stepped in the doors, I knew there was something there. The EMF needle spiked, its weird little noises filling my ears. I grinned and moved deeper into the library.

The further I went in, the more the detector spiked. Eventually I ended up at the back of the fiction section, in a tight little corner where someone could hide and read in relative peace. By now I could faintly hear the EMF detector without any earbuds in.

I made my way to the nearest side door, rushing out. In the parking lot Dean was waiting in our latest stolen car, watching worriedly for me.

"What'd you find?" he asked.

"It's a student here," I declared. "Well, a former student. A dead former student."

Dean's eyebrows went up. "You sure?"

I nodded. "Yep. Both vics. were bullies, and the EMF detector started making noise in the back halls and library. The places where the not popular kids end up."

Dean nodded. "So what do you think happened?" he asked.

I considered for a moment. "I think the ghost used to be someone who got bullied a lot, who eventually committed suicide. Now, since all the supernatural mojo leaked to this universe, he or she's come back to get their revenge."

"By killing people who bully others," realized Dean. "And I bet our ghost killed themselves by slitting their wrists."

We pulled into the motel, where Sam and Cas were waiting. Impatiently, we filled them in on our theory.

"I can find that out from here," said Sam. He flipped open his computer, pulling up the internet.

"This town has had a five suicides," he commented several minutes later. "Two of them could be our ghost."

"What are we supposed to do?" I asked. "Burn both bodies?"

"It's better than burning the wrong one and letting someone else die," said Dean.

Sam checked its watch. "We've got a couple hours till the sun sets," he said. "The benefits of winter. Hopefully it won't go after anyone else before then."

My eyes widened as a horrible thought occurred to me. "I think it might," I blurted out.

"Who?" Sam was halfway standing.

"I'm not sure what their names are. There's two of them. They were friends with Sarah Brooke, and today I saw them picking on some girl at the school," I said. "And I picked up quite a bit of EMF in that spot."

Sam flipped open his computer. He hacked Sarah's social media sites, searching for the names.

"There," I said, pointing to the screen. On it was a picture of three girls; Sarah Brooke, Heather Sient, and Mikaela Varnes. The last two girls, Heather and Mikaela, were the two I'd seen at the school.

Sam began a more complex hacking sequence, working his way into the school's website, where each student's personal information was stored. Within ten minutes he had their addresses pulled up.

"Sam, you're with me. Cas, head to Mikaela's house. Keep an eye on her."

"What about me?" I stepped in front of the door as Dean slung his jacket on, my good hand on my hip. Without me they'd still be on square one. I was not getting left out of this.

Dean sighed, and I realized he'd completely forgotten about me. Luckily for me, we didn't have time to argue about if I stayed at the motel or not. "Fine," he said. "Go with Cas. But stay out of trouble. If anything happens, call me."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah," I muttered. I grabbed my coat, and a moment later Cas's hand was on my shoulder.

Mikaela's house was small but pretty, blue with white shutters and doors. Cas handed me a small canister filled with salt.

"Wait here," he said. "I'm going to make sure she's in the house."

"I really don't think-" Cas vanished, leaving me talking to thin air. "-that's a good idea," I finished.

I was standing on the front lawn of the house across the street. I sighed, hoping no one looked out their window and started asking questions. That would have been awkward to explain.

Peering at the house, I saw one of the lights going on in an upstairs room. Through the window, I saw Mikaela throw herself on her bed, phone in hand. A moment later the lights started flickering.

"Shit." I glanced around. Cas still wasn't back. I ran for the house.

The door was locked, so I kicked out at it. Nothing happened, so I kicked again.

"Whoa." I stumbled as my foot met the air, and Cas caught me.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"The lights in Mikaela's room are flickering," I said. "The ghost is here."

Cas turned and ran back into the house, and I followed. I paused as we reached the living room, the small bottle of salt in my palm feeling suddenly insignificant. I grabbed a fire poker from next to the fireplace, thanked my good fortune that this family hadn't switched to electric, and followed Cas up the stairs, bouncing the metal rod in my hand.

Cas arrived at the room first, from which screams were already echoing. I shouldered my way in after him.

Mikaela was huddled against the wall, cradling her wrist against her chest and screaming. Blood flowed down her front.

Cas stepped in front of her, un-stoppering the bottle of salt. He threw it at the ghost in front of him.

I ignored the battle, trusting Cas, and crouched in front of Mikaela.

"Let me see, let me see," I whispered. I pulled off my shirt and did my best to tie it around her wrist, then grabbed her other arm and pulled her up. "Let's get out of here. Come on."

As she stood, Mikaelas screamed, backing up. I whirled to see the ghost in front of me. She had long hair and tear marks on her cheeks, blood soaking her front. In her right hand she held a steak knife. This she slashed at me.

Instinctively, I moved my arm forward, parrying with the poker I'd taken from the fireplace. The two metals, one supernatural, clashed. The smell of ozone filled the air.

I shoved forward, throwing the ghost off balance, and stabbed with the fire poker. It went through her chest, next to where her heart would be if she were alive. A moment later Cas grabbed my bottle of salt from my pocket and flung the contents at her. With a shriek and a flicker, the ghost vanished.

I turned. Behind me, Mikaela was sinking against the wall, her eyes fluttering. I grabbed her as she fell.

"No, don't fall asleep, wake up." I shook her, then with an apologetic wince slapped her face. She blinked, but didn't give any other response. "Cas?"

The angel pulled her from my arms, standing and balancing her in his own. A moment later he was gone.

I grabbed the fire poker from the ground and held it ready, putting my back against the wall as the enormity of how alone I was hit me. Anything could happen.

So when Cas reappeared beside me, I totally did _not _scream.

"It's me," he reassured. I lowered the poker, which I'd nearly hit him with.

"I know." I cased a glance around us. "Where'd you bring her?"

"The nearest hospital." Cas grabbed his canister of salt from the ground and shoved it in the pocket of his trench coat, which was now stained in blood.

"Do you think it'll attack her there?" I asked.

"I don't know." Cas looked worried. "We need to see Dean and Sam."

A moment later we were outside Heather's house. I peered around; no one was there.

"They haven't gotten here yet," I said. I laughed. "They have to drive. They probably just left the motel."

Cas frowned and pulled out his phone, dialing Dean's number.

"Where are you?" he asked. A minute later he snapped the phone shut and grabbed my arm.

"Ow." I rubbed my head as it crashed into the ceiling of the car, falling backward into the seat. The motion jolted my shoulder.

"Sorry." To my surprise, Cas sounded like he meant it.

"What the hell?" Dean jerked the steering wheel; off to the side horns blared. Dean waved them on.

"Mikaela Varnes was just attacked by the ghost," I supplied. Sam glanced back, taking in the blood that covered us.

"Is she alright?" he asked.

"I brought her to the hospital," said Cas.

"Did you get a good look at the ghost?" asked Sam.

Cas nodded.

"Yeah, we did," I said.

Sam pulled out his phone, where he'd taken screenshots of our two possible candidates. Cas took it from him and flipped back and forth between the two photos.

"The first one," he said. He handed it over to me, and I scanned them before handing the phone back to Sam with a nod.

The photo had been of a girl about my age, with dirty blonde, pin straight hair and green eyes. In the photo she had on a Santa hat, the white pom pom dangling over her face. She was smiling at the camera, but behind her eyes I could see unhappiness. Loneliness.

"What was her name?" I asked. The words sounded sad. I'd never spoken about someone in the past tense before. I suppose that was how the Winchesters referred to the majority of people.

"Abby Indive," Sam informed me. "This photo was taken right before her death."

I felt my gut twist. "That's so sad," I whispered.

"Yeah," Dean's voice sounded gruff when he spoke from the driver's seat, like he agreed but didn't want to admit it. He pulled to the side of the road. "There're shovels, gas, and salt in the back of the car. Cas, why don't you pop over to the cemetery and take care of the bones. I'll keep an eye on Heather till you're done. Bring Sam to the hospital Cas. Sammy, keep an eye on Mikaela, just in case."

"You think she'll turn up there?" I asked. Dean shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "Climb up front, you're with me."

I nodded, slipping out of the back seat as Sam met Cas at the trunk of the car. I turned to watch as Cas pulled a few supplies out, then he and Sam were gone.

Dean and I were silent as he drove. I couldn't help but sneak glances over at him. I highly doubted he wasn't up to something. I also noticed that he was also glancing continuously over at me.

As we drove I started to feel shaky as the adrenaline began to leave me. Rubbing my hands together, I looked out the window. I'd just had my first fight with a ghost. I was having a bit of trouble comprehending it.

I needed to get out of the motel room more.

Ten minutes later we pulled up in front of Heather's house. Dean parked the car across the street, leaving the engine idling as we sat at the corner. We both turned to watching the house.

"So," Dean said a few minutes later, "how's your arm?"

"Getting better," I said. I poked at the wound with my finger, wincing for my stupidity. "How long will it take to heal?"

"A while," said Dean. "And you have to rebuild the muscle in your arm. It won't be fun."

I groaned. "Great."

Dean chuckled. "Could be worse," he said. "That's really a minor injury considering."

"Yeah," I glanced down at my shoulder. It really was. Especially since at the time I'd just tackled a demon holding a very large knife. I was lucky I wasn't dead.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"Your first ghost encounter," Dean continued. "How do you feel?"

I shrugged, still processing my emotions as the last of the adrenaline slinked out of my system.

"I'm not sure yet," I admitted. "I'm still processing."

Dean nodded, seeming pleased with my response. My eyes narrowed.

"So, why did you want me with you?" I asked. Dean glanced over, wary now, and I shot him a grin. "Or did you think I didn't pick up on that?"

Dean shifted to face me without taking his eyes completely off the house, and I grimaced. I felt like I was about to get a lecture from my parents.

"I wanted to keep an eye on you," he said.

I frowned. "You don't trust me?"

Dean shot me a glance. "You've got your show about me and my brother. What do you think?"

I nodded. After all he'd been through, Dean didn't trust easily. Not that he had trusted easily to begin with, but years of the apocalypse and the heaven and hell drama that followed had hardened him further.

"What will make you trust me?" I asked. Dean glanced over in surprise.

"You're taking this well," he commented. "Most people would flip if I told them I didn't trust them."

"I'm not most people," I said. "I can be reasonable."

"Can be?" Dean looked amused.

I shrugged. "I have my moments."

Dean chuckled. "Alright." He sighed. "Why are you here?" he asked. "Why do you want to hunt with us?"

I looked ahead, considering my answer. I knew that besides being wary of an enemy in disguise, Dean was also making sure I wasn't some thick headed idiot that would get him killed. I had to choose my words wisely.

"Why do you hunt?" I asked. "You want to help people, help them in a way that a badge and set of handcuffs can't. I know it's different for you, because you grew up in this life, but I've been watching that show for years, and in a way so did I. I want to help people."

"And that's the only reason?" Dean cocked an eyebrow at me, and I rolled my eyes.

"Ok. Yes, a part of me always thought it would be fun. Chasing down monsters, the action, the adventure, blah blah blah. Every fan of the show thinks that. But don't say that you don't find it the least bit fun. Are you telling me that you don't enjoy that feeling you always get in the middle of a case?" I stared firmly at him, not backing down.

Dean nodded slowly, considering. "Fair enough," he said. He glanced down at me. "When I was a kid I thought that. I thought it was all fun; I looked at it like a game."

"And you don't anymore?" I asked.

"Oh sure, there are some parts I find fun," Dean said. "Undercover can be a laugh. There are always certain aspects of the case that can be amusing. But the hunting itself isn't. You gotta learn to separate the two."

I nodded. "When did things change?" I asked. "When did you stop seeing it as a game and more like a job?"

"When I was sixteen," Dean said. "My dad and I were working a job down in Florida, and I made a mistake. A real stupid one too. And it got someone killed." He looked away, out the window, and I could see his shoulders tense, like he was fighting away an onrush of feelings.

I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder, waiting until he turned to look at me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Dean shook his head. "S'ok," he said. He gave me a smile to tell me he was fine, but in the back of my mind I knew he was lying. "But you get my idea. It's fine to have fun on the job; some of the things you gotta do. But the job itself? Never let your guard down, and always take it seriously."

I nodded. "Aye, aye, captain," I responded. We both chuckled.

I glanced out the window. The sun was setting, but it still had a ways to go yet.

"Cas can't dig that grave till the sun goes down, can he?" I asked.

"Generally no," said Dean. "But Casper the not so friendly ghost is active now, so we gotta make an exception. Angels have good stamina, he'll get the grave done faster, and he can just fly outta there if he gets caught."

I nodded. "How long do you think he'll be?" I asked.

Dean checked his watch. "About a half hour."

I nodded. A half hour. I was bored already.

"Here," Dean handed me a small leather bag.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's an anti-possession… thing." Dean grimaced at his lack of better words. "Bobby showed us how to make em. I can't bring you to a tattoo parlor without the FBI showing up, so this'll have to do."

I nodded and stuffed the small bag in my pocket. "Thanks," I said. Dean nodded.

He fiddled with the radio, jumping from station to station. I watched with amusement as he winced and muttered remarks about the music on each one, chuckling as he finally gave up and hit the power button on the radio.

"What sort of crap was that?" he asked.

"Honestly, I don't know," I said. "I'm more into rock."

Dean grinned over at me. "Alright," he crowed. "My kinda girl." He paused. "Hold on. How do you like rock and _The Notebook_?"

"I can't like more than one genre?"

"No, no, it's fine," Dean said. "I just don't get it."

"Have you ever watched it?" I asked. Dean pursed his lips.

"No," he admitted.

I grinned. "Then tonight, after we're finished with this case, we're all watching it. _Then _you can judge it."

A half hour later Cas and Sam appeared. After shoving the gas and shovel into the trunk of the car they climbed into the back.

"We good?" Dean asked.

"Yes," came Cas's response. Dean nodded and started the car, then pulled out into the street.

"Please tell me we're getting food now," I said. Dean glanced over.

"Are you hungry?"

"Just a little," I said. I made sure the sarcasm in my voice was very clear. Dean chuckled.

"So what now?" asked Sam. "You wanna spend the night in town?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Lucy wants us to watch a movie."

Sam glanced over at me, wary. "What movie?"

"_The Notebook._" Dean's response sounded like he'd rather stab himself in the eye. Behind me Sam groaned.

"Hey, hey," I defended myself. "You've never seen the movie. Don't judge it yet."

"I've already seen it," pointed out Cas.

"You can see it again," I told him.

"Do we have to?" asked Sam. I nodded.

"Yep."

I resisted the urge to punch the three Winchesters as they groaned in dismay.


	6. Chapter 6

Two days later the four of us were sitting in a field intersected by the highway, chatting idly. The stars were out, the moon was bright, and everything was peaceful.

I wasn't expecting it to last.

Sam, Dean, and Cas were filling me in on some of the stupider things they'd done over the years, and the four of us were laughing like a bunch of fools. As we spoke, I managed to combine what I'd learned of them during our time spent together with what I'd seen on my show to discern a few valuable insights.

Cas, although given a good approximation of modern culture by Metatron's extensive story knowledge, was still extremely naïve. And he wasn't very interested in expanding his knowledge. He was happy as an angel, despite having a more human emotion palette. He seemed to be trying to combine the best of heaven and earth inside of himself. Maybe, I guessed, finding that middle ground between the two species, human and angel, was how he coped with everything he'd been through. He was a part of both worlds, yet not so much a part of either that he could claim one or the other as his screwed up home.

Dean was still in many ways the cocky older brother who'd broken into his little brother's apartment so many years ago to enlist his help in tracking down their missing dad. He still loved their father's car, spending his free time carefully checking its tires and engine and a bunch of other mechanical stuff that I didn't know about. He still loved to spend his nights at the local bar, conducting his own side research on how many cheesy pick-up lines he needed to use in order to woe some girl into bed. He _loved _to drink. Every night, no matter where we were, he ended with a bottle of beer, and he never turned down a slice of pie. And he still cared about his Sammy.

But not in the same way. He had realized that Sammy had come into his own, and he had seen far too much darkness in his little brother over the years to see him as the sweet little kid who'd depended on him growing up. Just like Dean had seen too much of his own darkness to be as lightweight as he had been. Now there was a sort of weight to him, like he'd seen the end of the tunnel and knew there was no light.

Sam too, was different. He still was the brains of the group, the hacker, the walking encyclopedia, (though I found that while Sam was more book smart, knowing facts and figures, Dean was the one who had Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter debates with me.) But Sam wasn't the kind, gentle young man intent on leaving behind the world of hunting he'd once been. He didn't want to settle down with a pretty wife, pretty kids, pretty home, and pretty law degree. He'd gone from running away from the life he'd grown up in to embracing it fully.

At least I assumed so. Could you ever know with those two? Every time one of them vanished, to hell, to purgatory, you name it, by the time they got back, the other had settled down. Still, Sam seemed to have rejected the idea of romance at this point, embracing the darkness with open arms. His one true love was burning corpses and devils traps. And Dean seemed to think that he put a curse on anyone he dared to care about.

So in total, you had a disconnected angel who didn't know he was lost, a border line alcoholic older brother with severe emotional issues, and a psychopathic little brother that didn't know how far over the line he'd crossed.

I decided that before I left them, whenever that was, I would need to fix them.

The question was how. I highly doubted they would appreciate me telling them how damaged they were, and they would probably think they were better off in their current states.

I turned my head as Dean's deep guffaw echoed to my left. He was leaning back against the front bumper of the car, a bottle of beer in one hand. Sam was next to him, and I couldn't help but smile as he unconsciously imitated his older brother's position. Old habits die hard.

Cas was sitting cross legged in the grass a few feet away. He chuckled at Sam's joke, whatever it was, looking like the awkward youngest brother who didn't quite know what his place was. I suppose it fit him.

I wondered what that made me. I hadn't had any more fights with them, but at the same time I knew I would only be staying until they could get home. The moment they found a wormhole leading back to their universe they'd forget all about me. And it wasn't like I had been through some great ordeal with them. I hadn't helped to stop the apocalypse, or leviathan, or even Metatron. I had no history. I wasn't family, just some kid they were stuck babysitting until they could get rid of me.

The thought brought tears to my eyes, and I turned my face back up to the stars, hoping that none of them saw my expression. The sky was beautiful, the black night polka dotted by little pinpricks of light. I tried to focus on it, tried to wipe away my worry, my doubt, every single negative feeling that I'd been having since I'd first woken up in that motel room. It didn't work.

What was my family doing now? Were they slaving over flyers with my name and picture, hanging them up everywhere they went? Did my parents walk in the door expecting to hear me blaring my music from my room, only to be greeted instead by silence? Did my little brother and sister still start down the hall to my room when they needed help with homework, only to remember as they reached the door that there was no one on the other side to help?

I didn't know if I wanted that. Maybe I wanted them to have moved on, to have forgotten me. I didn't know when I would be going back, or if I even would be. For all I knew, I wouldn't live long enough. Maybe they should move on, instead of waiting their whole lives for me to turn up.

But I was selfish. And that selfish part of me didn't want them to move on. It wanted them to be sitting at the kitchen table, crying and begging for me to come home to them. It wanted for me to walk in the door and to be tackled by them, all at once. For them to never stop caring. Never stop looking. Even if they had to look forever.

My reverie was interrupted as something hit my arm. It was a bundled up piece of plastic wrap, once containing a sandwich. I turned my head to see Dean and Sam looking at me inquisitor-ally.

"You ok?" Sam asked.

I nodded. "Yeah," I lied. "Just tired." I faked a yawn for their benefit. "How long until we hit Chicago?"

"That's what we were just talking about." Cas's voice came from my right, and I tilted my head to glance at him. "It'll take at least twenty four hours."

"At least?" I pushed myself up, wincing as the motion upset the wound in my shoulder. I settled into the same position as Cas, sitting so that I could see all three of them at once.

Dean shrugged. "Depends on traffic," he said. I rolled my eyes.

"I still don't understand why we can't just have Cas zap us there. Let's fly. We could be there in five seconds!"

Dean shook his head. "I don't do flying," he said.

I rolled my eyes. He was such a baby sometimes.

"So, why are we headed there again?" I asked.

Dean sighed. "There've been several killings, and each crime scene reeks of sulfur. Demons."

I nodded. I was surprised they were bringing me to the city. Part of me was expecting them to lock me in a motel room somewhere until they'd handled the demons.

"And you're not leaving the motel room until we're through there," Dean added. "You'll be in a different motel than us, Cas'll fly there to bring you whatever you need. This way no one knows where you are. I don't want you getting involved in this."

Well, I had been expecting something of the sort. I crossed my good arm over the sling, a position I had perfected over the last few days, and leveled my deadliest glare at Dean.

"That is not going to happen," I declared.

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Yeah, it is."

"You've never done this to anyone else," I defended. "You are not locking me away in some motel room, all by myself. Why do you think I'm going to get hurt? Is it because I'm a girl?"

"No." Dean's jaw was locked; he didn't want to have this argument. "It's because you got stabbed in the shoulder by a demon. I'm just trying to keep you safe."

I could feel my anger building inside of me. "I don't need you to keep me safe," I hissed. "I can handle myself."

"Lucy," interjected Sam. "You're weak right now. Once you're better it won't be like this."

"But you did get stabbed," finished Cas.

"And whose fault was that?" I yelled. The words exploded out of me, driven by fury and pain and guilt that had been held inside of me for far too long. "I got hurt protecting you!" I stabbed my finger at Dean.

As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Wished I could take it back. But it was far too late. Dean's face blanched, turning white. He stood, and god help me I thought I saw him tremble as he did.

"You don't think I know that?" His voice was dead calm as he spoke, but I could hear the turmoil underneath. "You don't think I don't know that everything that's happened to you is my fault?" His voice broke and he turned away, stomping away from us. He flung the beer bottle, and it shattered against the ground. He kept walking.

"Dean." Sam stood, staring after his brother. Dean didn't stop, didn't look back. "Dean!" Sam trotted after his brother's retreating figure.

I felt anchored to where I sat. Cas and I stared after the brothers, watching them move farther away. Guilt swam up inside me. How could I say that to him? I knew how he viewed everything, knew he already had an Atlas's burden complex. But I had to go shove it in his face. Remind him of something that was already eating him up inside. All I had done since I'd met the three Winchesters was cause them more grief. Suddenly I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Lucy." I could feel Cas's eyes on me as I stood, walking in the opposite direction of Dean. As I moved farther away he stood, starting after me. "Lucy come back!"

I ran. I ignored Cas's calling behind me, sprinting away from him, from them. Towards the edge of the field the grass blended into a forest. I made my way to where the trees began, only one thought in my head. To get away.

I bolted straight in. Pushing off roots and crunching branches underfoot, I ignored the whip of debris against me. I was sprinting now, using the thin sliver of moonlight that had managed to leak down to see where I was going. In the back of my mind, I hoped that the meager light didn't leave me. Without it, I would surely crash face first into a tree.

But even with the moon, there wasn't enough light, and I was moving far too fast among far too many protruding roots. One caught my foot, tripping me, and I went down hard.

I grunted as I hit the ground, skidding in dirt and leaves. I reached forward instinctively as I fell, trying to catch myself, and ended up slamming hands first into the ground. The fall jolted my shoulder, and I was glad that the wind had been knocked out of me, so that my scream came out as a choked whimper.

I rolled onto my side, staring upwards. Above me, all I could see was small green shapes rustling gently with the breeze. I felt deflated suddenly, devoid of energy. My guilt was rising again, stronger than ever, painful now. I didn't know what was worse, the ball it had formed in my stomach, which was now sending tendrils to snake out and twist through the rest of my body, or the pain in my shoulder.

Suddenly it all rushed upward, and before I knew what was happening, I was sobbing. Sobbing desperately, but not just because of what I'd said. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew that I was sobbing for what I was doing to my family. I curled into a ball, trying to ignore the pain in my shoulder. I tried to stop crying, but the effort only sent forth a new wrack of sobs.

"Lucy!"

I ignored Cas as he called for me; I could barely hear him over my ragged breaths. All I could focus on was my sobbing. It was pathetic, I realized. I didn't cry. And here I was, curled up on the forest floor bawling like an idiot because I couldn't have my way. The realization only made my blubbering worse.

"Lucy!"

A spray of dirt hit me as Cas skidded to a stop next to me, dropping to his knees. He must have found me by following the bawling.

I tensed, though still crying, expecting him to lay into me. It was only right. I'd screwed up and hurt Dean. And that was after I'd abandoned everyone I'd ever cared about. Then I'd gone running off like a five year old. And I still couldn't stop crying.

Needless to say, I was more than surprised when Cas pulled me against him, cradling me against his chest.

"It's ok," he soothed. He rocked me back and forth, letting my sobs soak his shirt. I wrestled away from him, falling against the ground.

"Why?" I asked, my words coming through strangled sobs. "Why are you doing this?"

Cas was sitting on his knees, his suit covered in dirt and soaking wet with my tears. The combination had coated him in mud. He was going to need a change of clothes. Yet he looked down at me with nothing more than complete kindness, looking for all the world like his sole wish was to chase away my unhappiness. At my words his face scrunched up in confusion, then a sad look took over his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "We didn't mean to keep you with us against your will."

My eyes flew open. He had it completely wrong.

"No," I moaned. "I like being here, with you, I…" I trailed off, unable to continue. Now I'd gone and made Cas think that they'd upset me. My sobbing intensified.

"Then why are you upset?" Cas asked. He pulled my chin up, forcing me to look him in the eyes. I did my best to look down, around me, anywhere but at him.

"Because I hurt Dean," I said. "You guys have been keeping me safe, and I'm acting like a brat. And I'm hurting my family, and, and... Why did you bother coming after me? I'm not worth it." I pulled away, not wanting to be comforted.

Cas disagreed. He grabbed me and pulled me against him. I fought, lashing out as I tried to break free. Then suddenly I stopped. I didn't have the energy for fighting, and it was only making my shoulder hurt. Dean had been right about that. My sobbing came stronger than ever.

Cas let me cry on him, his hand coming up to stroke my hair. I clung to him tightly, grabbing his trench coat with my hands. It was probably hurting him. My sobbing was most likely making him uncomfortable, or his sitting position on the ground, or even the lake I was depositing on his shirt. Either way, he didn't complain.

We stayed like that, until my sobbing started to cease. Little by little, it came to an end. The sobbing slowed, then I was doing no more than hiccuping, tears still coming down my face. Then even the tears, and finally the hiccuping were gone.

I pulled back and wiped my hand across my face, smearing dirt across it. I looked up at Cas; his blue eyes watched me kindly, patiently.

"I'm sorry," I blubbered.

"Don't be." His hand came up to wipe a fresh tear from my face, catching it as it came down from my eye.

I looked behind him, back towards where the clearing was. Had Sam and Dean returned to the car? How angry were they with me- they had to be. Would they even want me to come back? How the hell was I supposed to look them in the eyes again?

The thought made me tremble. I fought back new tears, automatically curling inward. I was ashamed and tired and in pain, and all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and hide.

Cas sensed my emotions. He pulled me against him again, and I let him hug me to him. His presence comforted me, calmed me. And to my relief, as I curled up in his arms, I drifted into sleep.

I woke feeling rested, more rested than I had in days. I blinked and stretched groggily, enjoying the feel of the morning sun on my cheeks. Then I remembered what had occurred the night before, and instantly my good mood vanished.

Had I really done all that? I resisted the urge to curl into a ball, shame riding over me like a wave. How was I supposed to face them?

"Lucy?" I forced myself to open my eyes as Cas approached, kneeling in front of me. "Time to get up," he said softly.

I nodded, but stayed where I was. I was afraid to face the brothers. Cas met my eyes, giving me an encouraging smile. He would stay near me. I felt relief blossom over me, giving me a bit of strength, and I crawled out from under my blanket.

Sam and Dean were sitting near the front of the car, silently munching on sandwiches. As I approached Sam tossed me one, and I sat and tore the plastic wrap off. No one spoke.

I forced myself to look around. Everyone was staring downward as they ate, or off to the side. Anywhere but at each other. Cas stood a few feet away, watching the sun rise, but I could tell he was waiting for something to happen with us.

Half an hour later we were ready to leave. Sam and Cas were loading everything into the car, leaving Dean and I alone. I couldn't help but feel that they'd planned that.

Dean was sitting against the front hood, looking towards the forest. I glanced over at it, then quickly averted my gaze. I didn't want to be reminded of the spectacle I'd made there last night, of the blubbering that Cas had needed to calm. I hoped he hadn't told the others.

Still, I needed to do something about Dean. It wasn't good that he was ignoring me, and it was my fault in the first place. I needed to make things right.

I stepped forward, towards him, wringing my jacket with my hand. What was I going to say? Dean didn't show any sign of noticing me, keeping his gaze firmly planted on the trees. I knew he was acting.

"Dean." I edged closer, stuffing my good hand in my pocket. Dean turned to face me, wariness on his face. I glanced down.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. I twisted the fabric inside my pocket, my face heating up. "I'm sorry for what I said last night. What happened isn't your fault. I know you're trying to look out for me. I'm sorry." I stopped. I was starting to repeat myself. I didn't know how to start again, to make him understand how sorry I really was. My lip trembled.

"It's fine. Hey, hey," Dean stepped forward and lifted my chin as I shook, and I averted my eyes. I hated how my cheeks were reddening, hated how my eyes were filling with tears.

"Lucy, look at me," Dean ordered. I forced myself to meet his gaze, steady apple green eyes. Dean gave me a reassuring smile.

"It's ok," he said. "I'm sorry too."

I shook my head. "You didn't do anything wrong," I mumbled. _Don't cry, _I told myself. _Don't cry. _

Dean shook his head. "I shouldn't have stormed off like that," he told me. "I should've stayed and talked with you then."

"What?" I shook my head. "No. You didn't do anything wrong. I did." I was starting to get annoyed. Did he not see that? The man was determined to blame everything on himself.

Dean laughed. "Look at us. Even when we're making up we can't stop fighting," he said.

I chuckled timidly. "Yeah," I sniffled.

Dean's eyes twinkled. "Let's forget about it," he suggested. I nodded, and he pulled me into a hug. It wasn't the same as Cas's had been the previous night. This was the hug that a big brother gave you. I found it impossible not to return.

"Alright!" Dean clapped me on the back and moved to the driver's seat of the car. Cas and Sam slammed the trunk shut, realizing that there was nothing more for them to eavesdrop on. They looked pleased.

"We ready?" Dean asked.

"Ready," replied Sam. He ducked his head as he pulled himself into the car next to his brother, and Cas settled in the seat next to me. Dean jiggled with the wires, and the car roared to life.

The brothers made an extra effort to include me in the conversation that day, joking and laughing with me as we drove. They were trying to put me back at ease, put aside the events of the previous night.

It worked. By the time we pulled into Chicago late that night everything was back to normal. We stopped at a drive through for dinner, pulling into a parking space to eat.

"We're still doing what I said last night," Dean called from the front.

I nodded, I had expected as much. Not that I was happy about it, but I knew that Dean wasn't going to change his mind, and I didn't want to have a repeat of the previous night. "Where am I staying?" I asked.

"Ok," said Dean. "We'll be on the other side of the city. So if anything tracks us down to our room, it won't think to look for you here."

I nodded. "And you'll check in with me?" I asked. I didn't want to be left in the dark about what was going on, and although I'd never admit it, I was a tiny bit afraid of being by myself in a city full of demons.

Dean nodded. "I'll keep you updated," he said. "Cas is gonna have to stay with us, the demons know he's in this world with us, and if they realize he's staying somewhere else they're gonna know something's up. But I'll have him check on you every hour."

I nodded, relieved. Once an hour. What could go wrong in an hour?

I ignored the tiny voice in the back of my head that was compiling a list.

Cas returned with a set of room keys, handing one to me. "You're room 12," he stated. I nodded and grabbed my bag from the car, slinging it over my shoulder. I turned to the others.

"Be careful, ok?" I said. Sam, Dean, and Cas nodded in turn, each giving me some form of an encouraging smile. I sighed and crossed the parking lot to the room, inserting the key into the lock and twisting it. The door clicked open.

I locked the door behind me, dropping my bag on the floor and moving to the window. Sam, Dean, and Cas had been waiting by the car to see that I'd gotten inside alright, but now they turned away, climbing into the car and pulling out of the parking lot. I bit my lip, shoving down the feeling of dread that was rising in my stomach.


	7. Chapter 7

I watched the car pull out of the parking lot, turning onto the busy Chicago streets. Soon the taillights were lost among countless others.

I sighed, turning and hitting the lights to the room. It was plain, boring, just like every other motel room I'd been in. Yellow walls and ceilings, with a beige carpet decorating the floor. A table on the left side of the room had two chairs, simple, with no carvings. A dresser on the center of the wall had a flat screen TV. At least there was that. There were two beds in the room, with a nightstand in between. I'd only need one.

I moved down the hall, noting the coat closet to the right, and turned on the bathroom lights. It wasn't very clean, and I crinkled my nose, put off more than a little. I turned the lights back off and closed the door.

I picked my bag up, hesitating between the two beds. Which one should I sleep in? On the one hand, if I needed to make a quick getaway I should choose the one next to the door. But at the same time, I would have more time to get out of bed if someone came in if I was further from the door. With a sigh I tossed my bag on the second bed.

I opened the bag, pulling out a change of clothes and my toiletries. I took a shower, scrubbing the dirt off my body as best as I could. It was hard to do with only one arm, especially since my shoulder was still hurting from the previous night. I'd tried not to move it much during the day, not very hard when all day was spent in a car, and hadn't told the boys.

I dressed quickly, struggling to pull on my shirt. In the end I managed, and curled up on my bed with a granola bar, flipping through TV channels.

"How are you?"

I jumped as Cas spoke from the side of the room, yelping. Cas moved forward, frowning.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine," I said. I laughed shakily; I needed to get a grip on myself. Nothing was going to find me here; we had only gone to all this trouble so that I would be _out _of danger.

Still, I remembered all too clearly the first demon I'd seen. I could remember its hand around my neck, slowly squeezing the life out of me. The bruises were only just fading.

"Did you guys get settled in somewhere?" I asked. Cas nodded.

"Here." He wrote an address down on a slip of paper, handing it to me. "Don't come to the motel unless something finds you. Don't leave the room either, and don't open the door. I'll always just fly in."

I nodded. "Anything else?" I asked. Cas nodded and pulled something out of his pocket. A burner phone.

"Don't use this unless it's an emergency," he said. He handed it to me, and I flipped to the contacts. Sam, Dean, and Cas's numbers were already programed in.

I nodded. "Thanks."

Cas nodded.

"How's the hunt going?" I asked. "Did you find anything?"

Cas shook his head. "We haven't had a chance to look yet. We just got to the motel."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked.

Cas shook his head. "Just wait here," he said. I sighed and nodded.

"How's your shoulder?" Cas pointed to my arm, which I was unconsciously rubbing. I shrugged my good arm.

"Not bad," I said. "A bit sore."

Cas nodded. "I was worried you'd hurt it last night," he said. His blue eyes probed mine. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." I stood, avoiding his gaze, and fiddled with my bag, which I had moved to the table. "I'm fine. They haven't said-"

"No." Cas stood and faced me. "They've already forgotten it," he assured me. I nodded, not convinced.

Cas sighed. "I have to go," he said. He stood. "I'll be back in an hour."

I nodded. "Tell Sam and Dean thanks for me." I wagged the phone, and Cas nodded. "And remind them to be careful," I added. Cas nodded again.

"Oh, and Cas?" I looked Cas straight in the eyes this time. "Thank you. For everything." I wanted him to know I remembered the previous night.

Cas nodded again, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Of course," he said. He raised his hand in a two fingered wave, then was gone.

I sighed. Alone again. This was going to get boring fast. I grabbed the remote and changed the channel. I didn't know what was on the screen, but it didn't look interesting.

I stayed awake for another two hours. I know because that's the amount of times I remember Cas popping in. He didn't stay long either time, just long enough to make sure I was doing alright.

I asked him about the case, and he told me that they hadn't gotten anywhere. They would need to check out the crime scenes the next day. I sighed and reiterated my warning for them to be careful.

I woke the next morning with the sun filtering through the window, the rays warm against my skin. I pushed myself up and looked around me. I was alone.

I glanced to the nightstand, where there was a small clock. **7:15 **it read. I groaned and flopped back on the pillow.

I was just about to fall asleep again when Cas appeared, a breakfast burrito in hand. I pushed myself up, diving into the food as Cas waited patiently for me to finish, standing against the wall. I took my time, knowing that the longer I took, the longer he would need to stay. Yeah, I was that selfish.

"So," I licked my fingers, standing and bringing the wrapper to the garbage can. "What's up?"

Cas smiled, amused. "You're bored," he guessed.

I glared at him, pushing hair out of my face. "I'm stuck in the same room for god knows how long until you three can get rid of however many demons there are in this city. Yeah, I'm bored."

Cas chuckled. "Sorry."

I waved him off. "It's ok." I was determined not to throw another temper tantrum like the one two nights ago. "Have you gotten anywhere yet?"

Cas shook his head. "We're about to start," he said. "I'll let you know when we find anything."

I sighed and nodded, crawling back onto the bed. It seemed like I was gonna be stuck here for a while.

I spent the day leafing through the channels, then took a very long nap. When I woke Cas was standing quietly in the corner, a pizza box in his hand.

"Jeez," I exclaimed. "How long have you been standing there?"

"A few minutes," he said.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I asked.

Cas set the box down on the table. "You were asleep," he said. "I didn't want to disturb you."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm spending all my time with you three. I'm already disturbed."

Cas smiled, lifting the box's lid. The smell of cheese and grease floated over to me, making my stomach growl. I padded across the room.

"Is that double cheese?" I asked.

"Yes," Cas replied. I tore a slice off and bit in, closing my eyes as I savored the taste. It had been a while since I'd had pizza.

Cas chuckled at my face, and I scowled at him. "Why'd you bring me the whole box?" I asked. "What about Sam and Dean?"

"They have their own box," Cas told me. "This for you."

I frowned. "Does this mean you're not coming back for a while?" I asked.

Cas shook his head. "No," he said. "I thought you might like some leftovers."

I smiled softly. "Thank you," I said. Cas nodded.

"So," I drew out a seat as I ate, gesturing for Cas to take the other one. "What have you found out?"

Cas sighed. "There doesn't seem to be much of a pattern," he said. "Nothing that suggests the demons are up to something big. It seems like they're just causing mayhem."

My eyebrows rose. "All of them? At once? In the same city?"

"We know," Cas said. "Something's not right. We're just not sure what yet."

I nodded. "Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?" I asked. Cas nodded, a smile on his face.

"Just stay out of trouble," he told me.

I rolled my eyes. "Well, there go my motor biking plans for later."

Cas chuckled and stood. "I'll be back in-"

"Back in an hour, I know." I shot Cas a grin. "Tell the boys I said hi."

Cas nodded, and then he was gone.

I sighed. I was really getting tired of being alone. I settled for another slice of pizza.

For lack of anything better to do I took a shower. When I finished I pulled back on the clothes I'd been wearing; I had nothing else clean. A few minutes later Cas popped back in.

"Am I allowed to leave the room to do laundry?" I asked. I pointed to a plastic bag on the bed, containing all my dirty clothes.

Cas shook his head. "We'll take care of it," he said. I rolled my eyes and nodded.

"Do you have anything new?" I asked.

Cas took his time before replying in the form of a single nod. His eyes were now troubled. I frowned, worry growing inside me.

"Ok," I asked. "So what is it?"

Cas sighed. "I'm feeling… things," he said. "The same things that I was feeling before the first wormhole appeared," he elaborated quickly.

I nodded. "So is it going to open again here?" I asked.

Cas nodded. "Most likely."

I did my best to keep my face stoic, considering what he said. The wormhole was finally going to open up again. They could go back to their universe, and I could go home. Home. I felt a longing rising up inside of me, aching for my family. Yet why did I feel a sense of dread?

I choked back whatever emotions I was feeling. I could deal with them later. "Well, that explains all the demons," I told Cas. "They must be able to feel it too. They're getting ready to go home."

Cas nodded. His blue eyes moved up and down my face, trying to discern my emotions from it. Well, he wasn't getting anything. I kept my face blank, until finally the angel gave up.

"Yes," he said. He stood. "I have to get back. I'll see you in an hour."

I nodded. "See you."

After Cas left, I dug around in my bag for the anti-possession baggie that Dean had given me. I frowned, unable to find it. Moving to my jacket, I searched its pockets. Nothing.

I sat on the bed, thinking back. When was the last time I remembered seeing it? It had been the other night, just before my fight with Dean. I let out a stream of curses. It must have fallen out of my pocket in the woods.

I whirled around when a knock came at the door.

Who was there? I highly doubted it was Sam or Dean, they would just fly in with Cas. And either way, Cas had just left.

My heart pounded as I reached for the pocket knife Dean had given me. I unfolded it carefully, trying to quiet my heavy breathing. Maybe whoever was outside would think that no one was in.

The knock came again. "Hello?" called a voice. "This is the manager. Is anyone in?"

A key clicked in the door, and I bolted forward, slamming myself against it.

"What the-" the manager pushed against the door, and I gritted my teeth as pain shot through my shoulder.

"One minute," I called. "I'm getting dressed."

Immediately the pressure on the door ceased. "Sorry," came the response.

I waited a minute before opening the door, thankful that my hair was still wet from my shower. As I did I kept the chain lock in place, just in case. A balding middle aged gentleman stood in the doorway. He was shorter than me, which was saying something. He seemed a bit sheepish about almost walking in on a teenage girl getting dressed.

"Are you staying for tomorrow?" he asked, his voice resonating with a thick Italian accent. I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms, ignoring the pain in my shoulder.

"I don't know," I said. "Most likely. Why?"

"I need the money," he said.

I frowned. The boys hadn't left me any cash.

"I don't have it," I said.

"You owe me money," the manager said. His eyes narrowed.

"No, I don't," I realized. "I read your pamphlet." I pointed behind me, to where it rested on the table. "I don't owe you a penny till ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

The manager grumbled, looking like he was fighting back some unpleasant words. "Have it for me then," he demanded.

I nodded and rolled my eyes. "Have a good night." I swung the door shut and locked it again.

I sat on the bed, resting back against the pillows. I had stacked the ones from the other bed with mine, so I had extra cushioning.

I needed to sort through the upcoming departure. Sam, Dean, and Cas would be going home. Back to their universe, to all the other angels and demons, to whatever new big plot event awaited them there. What would it be?

Never mind that, I had my own problems to worry about. After they left, I would need to get home. I didn't really feel like stealing a car was the way to go. I decided I could just walk into the nearest police station and tell them who I was. They would handle the rest.

The problem was though, they would want to know what had happened to me. Who had taken me and why, how I had ended up in Chicago, these were all questions I would need answers for.

Maybe I could tell them I didn't remember. It was the simplest way to go. As long as I kept where my memory dropped off consistent, and didn't change any facts up until then, there was no way they could disprove anything I'd said.

That settled, I moved on to the harder bit. Why was there a part of me that didn't want to go home? It was a question I had no answer to. Even after nearly an hour, I fell asleep with the question still tumbling around in my head.

_Knock, knock, knock, knock._

I woke to a pounding on my door. Sitting up groggily, I pulled the string on the lamp that would turn on the light. Beside me the clock read **11:21. **Cas had been here nearly a half hour ago.

And he'd left me clothes. A small pile, folded neatly, had been set on the other bed. I smiled softly.

_Knock, knock, knock, knock._

I glanced towards the door. Who the hell was there at this time of night? I grabbed the pocket knife from the nightstand, rising to my feet.

"Who is it?" I called. I winced at the tremor to my voice, then compensated by holding the knife at a better angle. At least I hoped it was a better angle.

"Open up please." I instantly recognized the heavy accent of the manager.

I sighed, folding the knife and sticking it in my pocket as I made my way to the door. "I told you, I don't have your-"

I stopped as the door opened. The manager grinned up at me with a sardonic expression, eyes as black as the night sky behind him.

I tried to slam the door shut, but the demon stopped it easily. It's grin widened as it thrust its hand forward, easily breaking the chain on the door as it was slammed open.

I backed away, scanning around me. Where was that damn phone? With trembling fingers I pulled the pocket knife out of my pocket, holding it in front of me.

"Don't come any closer," I warned.

The demon laughed, striding up to me. I slashed with the knife, and the demon caught my wrist, twisting until the blade fell from my fingers. Then it threw me.

I crashed into the nightstand, crying out as I collided with solid wood. I landed on my stomach, on the floor, but before I could stand up the demon was there, lifting me by my neck.

I groped out, searching for something, anything I could use as a weapon. Pulling my left arm from the sling, I managed to grab the lamp off the nightstand, swinging it down on the demon's head as hard as I could. It stumbled, losing its grip on my throat just enough for me to tear my way free.

I crawled away, grabbing the knife from where it had fallen. As the demon came at me again I stabbed upward, knowing it would do no good, a pocket knife was no use against a demon. Still, I felt a flicker of hope inside me as the knife sank up to the hilt in the demon's chest. I stood and bolted for the door.

The demon grabbed me, throwing me again. This time I crashed into the TV, shattering its screen. Before I could move the demon grabbed me again, throwing me on the floor in front of my bed. Its mouth opened.

Black smoke issued out, billowing around its head. I watched in openmouthed amazement as it did, then with horror realized what was next. I clamped my hands over my mouth, over my nose, but it was no good. The smoke rushed forward, squeezing between the cracks between my fingers and up through my nostrils, into my mouth. I gagged and sputtered, choking on it. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. I couldn't think.

Then it was over. I was lying flat on my back in the motel room, looking up at the cracked yellow ceiling. I tried to assess the damage to my body. Everything hurt. I was sure I would need stitches. When I tried to move though, I couldn't.

I panicked. Why couldn't I move? I thrashed, all to no avail. I cried and screamed, but no sound came out of my mouth. Somewhere someone was laughing. Who was it? Who would laugh at this?

Then I realized who it was. Me.

As soon as the realization struck, my body started to move. Yet I wasn't moving it. Even still, my body got to its feet, looking around me. My eyes surveyed the room. It was wrecked, the lamp and TV smashed. The manager was lying on the floor; he wasn't moving.

My body started walking. Not out of the room, but further in, towards the bathroom. It wanted me to see something. The door opened, the handle moved by my hand, but I hadn't willed my hand to move.

I could see my figure silhouetted in the mirror. My hand reached up, again, not by my doing, to turn on the switch, and I stared in horror at the face in the mirror.

It was my face. I recognized it clearly. It was covered in blood, but it was still mine. Nothing was different except the eyes.

My eyes were black.

I screamed. I screamed and screamed, to no avail. The only thing that could hear me was the demon staring back at me. And as I screamed, it laughed.


	8. Chapter 8

_Starry Night. _I had always loved the painting, done by Vincent van Gogh in 1889. I loved his unique style of painting, the way he'd done the stars, not as tiny pinpricks, but as smudged orbs in the sky. I loved how he showed the wind, by smearing a winding pattern of white into the blue and black sky he'd painted. It seemed the philosophy of Van Gogh had been the more the better.

I pictured the painting now, outlining the image in my mind. I focused on the colors, the designs, on every little detail. I wanted it to be the only thing in my head.

I knew that the demon would be able to see what was in my mind. And there was a lot of stuff in there that I didn't want it to see. Stuff about me, about my family, about the Winchesters. I couldn't let it glean anything it could use from my thoughts.

So, I ignored everything around me. I ignored the images coming through my eyes, what my ears were hearing, what my body was feeling. I wouldn't be able to move my body anyways.

I had no idea if it was working. No idea if the demon, if it were to look in my head, would see anything more than the details of that painting. Could it still decipher all my secrets, all of Sam, Dean, and Cas's? I had no idea. But I still had to try.

Eventually, I became adept at holding the picture in my head. I could focus on it with half my mind, leaving the other half free to roam. But I had to be careful. One false move, and the demon would know everything I was fighting to keep hidden.

I took advantage of the fact that my eyes were open, peering out. It now felt like I was peering in someone's window; taking advantage of someone else's view. I wasn't in control of that view, the demon was.

We were inside an apartment building. Judging by the walker sitting to the side and the scent of litter boxes that filled the air, an old lady with a few too many cats lived here. Well, had lived here. I doubted she was still alive.

Out the window I could see the red brick of the next building. We were at least two floors up. Sunlight filtered through the window, bright enough to at least be noon. I had no idea how much time had passed.

The demon, using my body, was sitting in a kitchen chair, twirling something around in my fingers. A knife. Somewhere in the small corner of my mind that I still had control over, I felt annoyed. It had better not accidentally take one of my fingers off.

Control.

That was it, control. I still had control of one part of my mind. Maybe, if I moved very slowly, very carefully, I could take control of the rest. I could take my body back.

I hid behind the painting as I thought this, not wanting the demon to see. How was I going to manage that? It didn't feel like it always did in books and movies, where suddenly a person's mind was a maze that they could walk through. I couldn't feel a barrier in my mind, a black, sticky wall keeping me from taking control. My thought range felt the same as always. I simply had no control over my body.

So I would have to wait. Maybe at some point the demon would slip, and I would be able to expand my mind, filling the rest of my brain. Hopefully my chance would come before the demon did anything.

The demon itself was looking up as someone approached from the side. As my eyes, now its eyes, whipped around, I saw that there was a side entrance to the room. In the entranceway stood another demon, in the body of a middle aged man. He offered a cruel smile.

"Your turn," it declared. I felt the demon inside me grin, rising with a final turn of the knife. The demon sauntered past, into what I guessed was the living room.

Someone- or rather something- had dragged one of the kitchen chairs into the living room. Sitting in it, in the center of the room, was the owner of the apartment we were in. She was old, just as I'd suspected, wrinkles coating her face and arms. Grey hair was cut short, not enough there to hide her blue eyes. Blue eyes that shone with fear and agony.

Immediately I knew why. The woman was tied to the chair, her hands bound roughly behind her back and a gag tied around her mouth. There were various cuts decorating her body, and blood dripped onto the floor. The demon used my face to grin.

The demon raised the knife, bringing it down in a smooth arc across the woman's cheek. Blood squirted as she screamed through the cloth that bound her mouth shut.

I forced myself to keep quiet. I had been so for so long now, however long; if I started making noise the demon would know that I was still fighting. When I attacked, I had to have the element of surprise.

So I watched, helpless as the demon used my hand to torture the woman in front of me. I could feel the blade slice through flesh, could feel blood spurt, painting me red. I could see the woman, no longer screaming, was sagging in her chair, devoid of even the energy to sit up straight.

The demons in the room, including the one possessing me, whirled towards the door as it was flung open. Another demon burst in, black eyes wide.

"Winchesters," it growled. The three other demons growled in disgust, as did the one inside me. It glanced down at the woman in the chair. The demon then shoved her head back; it lolled over the back of the chair, and the demon raised the knife again. The next cut sliced deep into her throat, sending a spray of blood into my face. I resisted the urge to scream into my mind.

The demon left the knife where it was, moving into the kitchen. On the table I saw for the first time several knives, the three edged kind that had first been brought to earth by angels. I knew that since then demons had been taking them off their hands.

The demon in me grabbed one, twirling it through my fingers. One by one, each demon came and picked up a knife, taking their place in the living room of the apartment. The woman, still bound to the chair, was moved out of the way.

A minute later the door burst open. Sam, Dean, and Cas rushed in. Cas had his own angel blade drawn, Dean held the knife they had taken from Ruby so long ago, and Sam had a second angel blade. I had no idea where they'd gotten it from.

Within moments, their eyes had come to rest on me. I could see their minds working, piecing together the blood that covered me, the knife in my hand. Hurt flashed across their faces, and I had never wanted to cry out so bad, scream and tell them that it was a demon, not me. Suddenly they blanched, and I knew my eyes had turned black. The demon used my voice to laugh.

"Hello boys," it crowed. It stepped forward, moving towards them. "What do you think of my new look?"

If I had possession of my body, I would've ground my teeth. Ok, I would have done more than that. A few curse words, maybe I would have tried to kill the demon myself.

"Get out of her." Sam spoke first, his words coming in a half growl. He raised a shotgun that had been stuffed in the waistband of his jeans, containing, I presumed, rock salt. "Get out of her now."

The demon laughed. Then it flicked my wrist, and Sammy went flying.

"Hey!" Dean's head spun, watching as Sam slammed into the wall, crushing the glass on the picture frames that were hanging there. The demons used the distraction to dart forward, swinging their knives.

Dean and Cas parried, surprising even me with their reflexes. I scolded myself a second later. They'd had plenty of practice. Even Sam was already getting up, driving his knife into a demon's chest.

The demon possessing me jumped forward, into the sway of the fight. I felt my arm come up, swinging the knife towards Dean's chest. He parried and punched out with his other arm. The demon stumbled back, hissing.

Dean followed. His green eyes burned, murder reflected in them. He swung his knife, and this time it was the demon that parried. Now Dean kicked out, his foot catching me in the stomach. I flew backwards, into the kitchen, my shoulder catching on the doorframe. Pain exploded through my arm.

The demon stood within moments, impervious to the pain, and attacked Dean. And so it continued. We continued to move backwards, towards the wall, the demon trying to kill Dean, Dean trying to disarm the demon. I was helpless to the results.

Again, Dean kicked. This time his foot caught me square in the chest. The demon stumbled again, falling back a little too far, with a little too much force. We hit the window, hard, and I heard a shattering.

"Lucy!"

Dean lunged forward as I toppled backwards, grabbing at my ankle. I hung from the side of the building, held in place only by his grip on my jeans. From the upside down view I got, I quickly determined that we were three stories up.

The demon reared up, using abs that I hadn't known I had, and stabbed at Dean with the knife, which was still in my hand. Instinctively Dean jumped back, releasing my leg as he did. I fell.

I heard a scream, realizing a second later that it was me. The demon was panicking, its mind flickering. I seized the opportunity, pushing outward with my mind.

It felt like someone had pumped my head full of air. My mind was expanding. No it wasn't, I knew. It was just returning to its normal size, the demon reduced to a nagging pressure in the corner of my head. I was in control again.

I only had a few seconds. As soon as I hit the ground I would most likely pass out, or be paralyzed, and wouldn't be able to do anything. A few seconds later the demon would take control again. I forced myself not to think about that, not to think about the pain that was in my future. Whatever was left of it that was. I drove the knife in my hand down, into my stomach. As agony exploded through my abdomen, the pressure on the back of my head vanished, exploding in a red hot flash, and I knew that the demon was dead.

Not that it did me much good. A second later I hit the ground. During my fall my legs had drawn level with my head, so my entire body hit the ground at the same time. My head bounced against the pavement, my arms, legs, and torso slamming down. The knife, moving on inertia, was pushed further into my stomach, even as I heard the snap of bones. I screamed.

At least there was sound coming out of my mouth. I had control over my body again. How much, I wasn't sure. I didn't know what was broken and what wasn't. My body felt like it was on fire, a thousand knives stabbing into it all at once. My vision flickered red. I couldn't move.

"Lucy!" I could hear Dean screaming my name from above. "Lucy!"

I wanted to tell him to stop, to turn around. Surely another demon was coming up behind him. But I couldn't see. Even my thoughts were fading, pain blacking out everything but the daggers pounding out a steady rhythm in my body. Or rather reddening out everything.

"Cas!"

Five seconds later the angel was there, scooping me up in his arms. Suddenly I was being set down again, this time on wood. He'd brought me back up to the apartment.

The knife was yanked out of my stomach. I heard it crash against the wall a moment later. Sam, Dean, and Cas were calling my name, jostling me.

Someone pulled open my eye. So that was why my vision had gone red. It had been the burn of the sun on the inside of my eyelid. I could see the boys, looking down at me, checking for signs of life. Terror was clear on all three of their faces.

But their faces were getting blurry. Even the pain in my body was fading, replaced by a heaviness. I was dying.

"No, no, no." Sam shook my shoulders. "Come on Lucy, not yet. Stay with us."

"Lucy." I knew from years of watching the show that Dean had cupped my face in his hands, bringing it up. Willing me to open my eyes. "Lucy!" His next cry was panicked.

"She's barely alive." Cas's voice sounded like a whisper, yet I doubted it was. I could barely hear anything; I definitely couldn't feel anymore. I supposed that was nice. At least I wasn't in pain. It was much nicer to die that way.

They were talking again. Their voices were hurried, excited almost. I didn't know why. I couldn't make out what they were saying. It was like trying to listen to someone while under water. All I heard was sounds.

I screamed as pain flared inside me. It felt like a wave, washing over everything. It started in my chest, spreading outward in a flash, to my head, to my fingers, to my toes.

I lurched upright, gasping. Strong hands grabbed me, steadying me. Instinctively, I leaned against the source. My eyes opened.

"Lucy?"

Deep blue eyes met mine, filled with concern. I panted, pulling away and falling on the floor. "Cas?"

Cas smiled, relief washing over his face. His hand drifted over to brush at my face, moving aside a strand of hair. "Are you ok?" he asked.

I looked down at myself. I was covered in blood, though how much of it was mine I had no idea. But there were no visible cuts on me. I probed my stomach, where the knife had gone in, there was no longer a wound. No glass was embedded in me from the window I'd gone out of, no bones were broken from my fall. Even the wound in my shoulder was completely healed.

I nodded. I was out of breath, reeling from Cas's healing, and had no idea where we were. But I was alive. I could deal.

"Lucy?" I glanced up to see Sam and Dean standing nervously to the side, watching. Their faces were torn between panic and relief.

I smiled up at them, letting them know I was fine. "Hey," I said.

"Hey?" Sam looked horrified by my word choice. "Hey?"

Dean laughed, dropping to his knees and pulling me into a hug. I returned it, clenching his old leather jacket in my hands. As soon as he released me Sam dove in, and then Cas, not to be outdone.

I started to push myself up, but Cas caught me. "Careful," he warned.

I slanted a glance at him as I staggered to my feet. "I seem to remember you saying that before," I reminded him. "Didn't work then either."

Cas smiled fondly, remembering, as I was, the first time we'd met. Had it really only been just a week and a half ago?

I glanced around. "Where are we?" I asked.

"Home." Sam's voice came with an exhale, like he'd doubted he'd ever say those words again. "We're back in our universe."

I nodded. Of course. That was how Cas had healed me. I should've realized immediately where we were.

"That's good." I felt a lump in my throat. Why? Now I could go home. "Good for you."

"Lucy." Dean's voice was dark. I felt a frown twist my face as I turned to him. "The wormhole closed. There's no way back through. I'm sorry."


	9. Chapter 9

I felt like Dean had kicked me in the chest again. My knees suddenly felt like jelly, and I fought to keep them from buckling. My breath hitched.

"Lucy?" Sam's voice echoed with concern. "Are you ok?"

I opened my mouth, probably planning to say something reassuring. No sound came out. I closed my mouth, then tried again.

"I don't know," I blurted out. A moment later I winced. That hadn't been what I was going for.

"Come on." Cas's hand was on my arm, putting a gentle pressure on it. "You need some air."

I nodded, allowing him to lead me out of wherever we were. Behind us I could hear Sam and Dean following.

As soon as the door to the building opened the sun hit me full force in the face. I blinked, now unable to see, staggering more than I had already been. Cas pulled me around the back of the building, so that we were standing in its shadow. I sank down against the rough wood, into grass.

The wormhole had closed. I was stuck here, stuck in a different universe. I put my head in between my knees.

I was never going to see my family again. They would spend the rest of their lives wondering what had happened to me, and I could never tell them. I could never go home. I felt suddenly very small, and very alone. Something twisted in my gut.

"Lucy?" I glanced up at the sound of Sam's voice. The three of them were watching me with concern, probably wondering if I would break on them.

I let out a strangled laugh.

"Yeah?" I asked. I wiped at my eyes, but to my surprise they were dry.

"You're in shock," guessed Sam. He frowned. "It's gonna hit later, and hit hard," he warned. I nodded.

"Maybe there's a way back," Dean added. He offered me a smile. "Another wormhole could open."

I shook my head. Something told me there wouldn't be another one.

"Where are we?" I asked. I needed a distraction.

"Montana." Cas gazed around him. "The wormhole opened back up in the same warehouse."

I nodded. That was boring. I needed something else to distract me. Maybe if I wasn't sitting around, I would find something else to think about. I stood shakily, leaning against the wall for support.

"Let's get outta here," I choked.

"Follow me." Dean started through the grass purposefully, and the rest of us followed. Looking around I saw that the warehouse was in a field. A ways away that field was intersected by a dirt road. To the left the field blended into a forest, into which the road disappeared. Dean began to jog, eager to reach something past the tree line. There, Sam, Dean, and Cas started to pull branches and leaves off a large object. I stepped forward to help.

Within a few minutes, the impala came into sight. The hood was polished a shiny black, the headlights newly cleaned. Dean lovingly brushed a bit of dirt off the side mirror, then dug his keys out of his pocket.

I watched him climb in, noting the almost reverent way he touched the door, the steering wheel. A week and a half was far too long for him to be separated from his baby. The keys turned in the ignition, and the engine sputtered.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. Especially seeing Dean's face. Anticipation had been building in him from the moment his car had come into sight, anticipation that was now not being relieved. It was like blowing up a balloon just so you could pop it, and instead watching as all the air rushed out of the untied stem.

"I don't suppose you can get Triple A out here?" I asked in between guffaws. Dean glared at me from inside the car. Sam looked like he was holding back laughter of his own.

"No need." Cas touched his fingers to the front hood of the car. "Try again."

Dean turned the key again. This time the engine shuddered to life. A grin split Dean's face, and he looked for all the world like a little boy on Christmas morning.

"You two want some alone time?" Sam asked. Together we chortled. Even Cas chuckled.

Dean climbed out. "We better let her sit for a bit," he said, ignoring his brother. He picked a pine cone off the ground, lobbing it. It bounced off a tree a few meters away.

I frowned. I didn't want to wait. I needed to be doing something. If I sat around, all my feelings about being trapped in this universe would come rushing back, and I couldn't deal with those then. I didn't even know how I felt about that.

"What are we supposed to do until then?" I asked. I scooped up a pine cone myself, tossing it from hand to hand. It felt good to have full access of my left arm again. "How long until we can get out of here?"

"Fifteen minutes," Dean promised. "Can you wait that long?"

With a huff, I nodded.

True to his word, fifteen minutes later Dean signaled for us to climb into the impala. He and Sam had already checked their store of weapons in the trunk. Really it was more like an arsenal. Guns and knives each had their own place, as well as a bag or two of salt. There were other weapons, things they'd picked up over the years that were unique to killing one specific creature. A devils trap had been painted on the inside of the hood in white paint. It was exactly how I remembered it from the show.

Dean guided the car into town, pulling into a motel.

"Cas," he called. "Can you grab us some clothes from a store? We gotta get cleaned up before we can go anywhere."

I glanced around at the three of them. They were all covered in blood from the fight in the apartment, red sprays decorating their faces. Cas also had a bright red stain on the front of his coat from when he'd picked me up. I was simply covered in it.

Cas nodded and vanished. I hoped he moved as quickly as Dean apparently thought he did; with as much blood as was on him, the moment anyone saw him they'd call the cops.

"I'll get us some rooms," Sam said. He pulled off his jacket, which had taken the worst of the blood spray, and used it to wipe off his face. Then he pulled his shirt down over his jeans to hide the rest of the blood and started for the motel.

Dean and I sat impatiently in the car, waiting for them to return. Or for someone to walk by and freak out from the blood we were covered in.

I glanced over at Dean. He was fiddling with the car's music, rifling through his cassette tapes as he tried to find the one he wanted. He glanced over just then, and our eyes met.

"You gave us one hell of a scare, you know that right?" he told me.

I smiled sheepishly. "What exactly happened? How'd you find me?"

Dean's eyebrows creased. "You don't know what happened?" he asked. "Generally people are still aware of what's going on around them when they're possessed, they just can't do anything."

"Yeah," I said. "I wasn't paying attention. I was trying to keep the demon out of my thoughts."

"Why?"

I slanted him a glare.

"You're kidding, right? Do the demons even know you guys have a bunker? Cos I didn't want to be the one to tell them that you do."

Dean nodded thoughtfully, purposely keeping his face blank. "Well," he said, "Cas went to your motel room to check on you and found the place a mess. The manager was dead. He came and got us, but by then you were long gone." He paused, thinking back, and I grimaced. Luckily Dean didn't ask what had happened to the manager.

"We had no idea where you were," Dean continued. "We went crazy with the case, going to all the crime scenes, hunting down demons. We couldn't find any. Eventually Sam realized that if you played connect the dot with where the killings had happened on a map you got a circle, and we went to the center. That's where you were."

I nodded. Had they really gone crazy looking for me? I could picture the scene, Sam parked at the tiny table in their motel room, books and maps spread out as he checked facts on his computer. Cas would be leaning against the wall, his face creased as he tried to decipher things in his head. Or maybe he would be staring at the info they'd collected, trying to piece together an answer. Dean would be pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath as he combed through every detail of every case. I was surprised he'd never worked himself into a panic attack.

"How long did it take to find me?" I asked.

"A bit over half a day," Dean informed me. "You really don't remember?"

I rolled my eyes. "I told you, my focus was on keeping the demon out of my thoughts, not tapping into its." I shuddered, recalling the flash of a knife in my hand. I remembered some things.

We glanced over as Sam left the motel, jogging across the parking lot. At about the same time Cas reappeared, a pile of clothes in his arms. We hurried inside our motel rooms. As usual, Sam and Dean went into one room, Cas and I into the other.

"Here." Cas handed me my clothes.

"Thanks." I grabbed them and started for the bathroom, but Cas caught my arm, turning me back toward him.

"Are you ok?" he asked. His blue eyes searched my face intently.

I thought. I still didn't know what was going on in my head. And I didn't want to figure it out then, in front of him. I gave him a soft smile.

"Yeah," I said. I retreated to the shower, leaving Cas staring after me worriedly.

Once inside the bathroom I looked at myself in the mirror. I had more than a little trepidation as I did so, half expecting the eyes staring back at me to be black. But they were my own deep brown.

I was covered in blood. There was a spray of it across my face and neck, overshadowed by the pool that was drying on my shirt and jeans, from where I'd stabbed myself. A smaller pool had collected on my left shoulder, the wound there must have opened up at some point. I lifted my hand to my hair, feeling where the dark, curly locks were matted with blood. How had I even survived long enough to get to this universe?

I shook my head, chasing the thoughts out of my mind. I quickly pulled off my clothes, stepping into the shower. Immediately the water turned red, red rivulets running down me and coating the tub floor. I closed my eyes so I didn't have to see it, focusing on squeezing as much shampoo into my hair as I could.

But with my eyes closed, images started to flash through my mind. The woman in the apartment came first, covered in blood, the knife in my hand carving out her throat. I shuddered as I recalled the slice of her flesh, reminding myself fervently that I hadn't been the one wielding the blade. The demon had been.

Then came the motel manager. I could remember perfectly the way the pocket knife had felt as it had sunk into his chest, remembered how seconds later a red stain had started to spread out from the blade. I could see him a minute later, after the demon had possessed me, crumpled on the floor, lifeless.

_But he was possessed,_ I told myself. _It was self-defense._

I knew I was lying to myself. I had known the little knife would be no good against the demon attacking me. I'd known, even if it was just in the back of my mind at the time, what I was doing. I had killed the manager. That was on me, not the demon.

Suddenly my knees couldn't hold me up any more. I fell forward, onto the red stained tub floor, shaking. My breath was coming in ragged heaves, and I felt like I was going to be sick. I had killed a man. I leaned against the wall, hugging my arms around myself. I had killed him. I had stabbed him, and he was dead, and it was my fault. In that universe, my universe, there was now a family mourning for the life that _I _had taken.

"Lucy?" I jumped as Cas knocked at the bathroom door. "Are you alright?"

I scrambled to my feet, pushing my hair out of my face. "I'll be out in a minute," I called. My voice sounded strangled. I hurried to finish up, my hands shaking.

Cas was waiting just outside the door, a concerned look on his face. I slipped past him into the motel room.

"Go ahead," I said. "I warn you, it's messy in there." I shot him a shaky smile and turned away quickly. I didn't want him to see how badly I was still shaking.

Sam and Dean were waiting for us in their room, freshly showered. As Cas and I slipped in they smiled almost sheepishly, looking like we'd interrupted a conversation. I wondered what they'd been talking about while we were in the other room.

"Let's go get some grub," Dean said. With an eager nod of agreement Sam grabbed his new jacket, and we made our way out to the car. I started to climb in, stopping when I noticed that Cas was still standing on the sidewalk outside the motel room.

"I should go," he said. "I need to check in with my brothers and sisters." His eyes flickered over to me uncertainly, and I offered him a smile.

"Pop back in later," I told him. Cas nodded. He looked like he wanted to hug me goodbye.

"Careful," Sam warned. "I still don't trust them." Dean looked like he wanted to elaborate on their feelings, but thought better of it.

"I know," came Cas's response. "I'll find you tonight." He vanished.

I moved my eyes back and forth between Sam and Dean. "What was that about?" I asked.

Sam slid into the passenger seat of the car. "We don't exactly get along with the other angels," he told me.

"Yeah, I know," I reminded him. "But I'm guessing there's a bit more to it."

Dean shrugged. "We're just not sure if we trust them."

I frowned. "You never did say who's in control now." I paused, waiting for them to do so. "Care to fill me in?"

Dean pulled out of the parking space, guiding the impala to the diner down the road.

"No one's officially in charge anymore," Sam told me. "At least as far as we know. Cas seems to have gotten them all to start making their own decisions."

"So if anyone's in charge," stated Dean, "it's Cas."

"So why don't you trust them?" I asked.

"Because we've only ever met three angels with free will who didn't try to- well, ok, scratch that, but basically we've only ever liked three angels, and two of them are dead." Sam looked like he was remembering a very long Tuesday. Probably because he was.

We had reached the diner. I climbed out, following the boys in. I refrained from saying anything else until we'd been seated at a back table.

"So what? You think they'll start doing a bunch of stupid stuff?" I asked. "A bunch of stupid evil stuff?"

Dean's mouth quirked at my choice of words. "We're not putting it beneath them," he stated.

"Hello." We paused our conversation as a waitress came over. "My name's Hannah, I'll be your server. Can I get you something to drink?" I couldn't help but notice that her eyes stayed glued to Sam and Dean. I might as well have been invisible.

We ended up getting water, followed by three large plates of eggs with sides of toast. As an unspoken rule, whenever the waitress appeared, we paused our conversation.

"So," I asked, swallowing a bite of eggs, "where do we go from here?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. He and Sam traded looks.

I grimaced. They needed to have a private discussion. I tossed my napkin on the table and rose, muttering something about having to go to the bathroom.

I stood in the entranceway to the bathroom, watching them talk quietly. If they knew I was there they ignored me, working out what they thought was best.

I was having the same debate in my head. Logic told me that I couldn't stay with them. Why would I? I was just some kid, I wasn't a prophet or anything important. They'd probably drop me off with Jody Mills, or some other trusted friend. I wondered if they had any others.

Still, I didn't want to leave them. I was only here because of them. They weren't getting rid of me that easy. And there was a small part of me that wanted to hunt with them, wanted Dean to fulfill his promise of letting me do what I wanted. I was stuck here, I might as well live the legend, join the hunt. And besides, I told myself, they needed a positive female influence in their lives. They needed to watch a few more chick flicks.

After five minutes or so they seemed to have reached a conclusion. I made my way back over, sliding back into my seat. The three of us stared uncomfortably at each other.

"So," I was the first to break the silence. "What's the verdict?"

Dean's eyebrows rose. "What're you thinking?" he asked. "Out of curiosity," he added.

I smiled. "I'm thinking that you're not getting rid of me." I left it at that, though I was ready to argue my case. I wanted to see what their response was.

They nodded thoughtfully. "That's sort of what we were thinking too," Sam admitted.

I tried not to show the relief that washed over me. Yeah, I had been ready to argue, but when it came down to it, that didn't mean a thing. They just had to lock me out of the impala and drive off.

The intensity of my relief surprised me. Surely I hadn't expected them to ditch me that easily? I kept my face blank as I considered. I honestly didn't know.

I glanced at Sam and Dean. Both were watching me uncomfortably, uncertain as to what they should say. I gave them a tentative smile.

Should I be saying thank you? I felt like that would be admitting that they didn't really need to keep me with them, and I didn't want that to happen. There was still time for them to make a run for it.

But something in me told me that wasn't going to happen. Sam and Dean had made their decision. And they had chosen to keep me with them. I remembered how I had always thought that they seemed to adopt half the people they met into their little family. Cas, Charlie, Garth, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Jodi. Adam, if he hadn't ended up in hell, would have become the youngest brother they both doted on.

Now I was the latest adoptee.

I gulped, overcome with emotion. When I had first realized that I was trapped here, in this universe, I had thought it was by myself. My family was still in New York, in a different universe; I would never see them again. But it seemed that I had another family, waiting with open arms. Yeah, maybe they weren't the people who'd raised me, but in a way I'd known them for years. And maybe they were messed up, but it was all for the right reasons. And they were my messed up family.

"So," I rephrased my question from earlier. "What now?"


	10. Chapter 10

I glanced over as Cas arrived. The angel was in his usual suit and trench coat, though this time with a more stressed expression on his face.

"Hey man." Sam glanced up from his computer. "Rough day?"

Cas nodded. "My siblings were- distressed by my absence," he stated. Dean chuckled as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"They didn't cause any trouble, did they?" I asked. I glanced around at Sam and Dean. "Sorry. Was that too blunt?"

Dean shrugged. "Nope. I was thinking the same." Sam nodded, giving Cas a _sorry man _look.

"Not that I know of." Cas sat at the table, leaning back in his chair. "I'm still getting caught up on what I've missed."

"How long have you been gone?" I asked. "What day is it here?"

"December eleventh," Sam stated. "We've been gone a couple of weeks."

I nodded. December eleventh. It was nearly Christmas time.

"So," Cas glanced back and forth between us. "What are you doing?"

"Just hanging." Dean took a swig of his bear. "We're gonna take a couple of days before we get back to work. We gotta get Lucy settled in."

I smiled as Cas glanced over at me.

"What are you going to do?" Cas asked me.

"I'm gonna hunt with Sam and Dean," I told him. Cas nodded.

"Do you know how?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I picked up a few things from the show," I said. "And they can teach me the rest."

Cas caught my eyes with his own. "Be careful," he warned. "It's a dangerous job."

"I know." I offered him a smile. "And I will be."

Cas sat back again, pleased.

"Are you staying for the night?" asked Dean.

"No." Cas stood, pushing his chair in. "I have to get back to heaven. But I said I would check in."

Sam nodded. "We're probably gonna head for the bunker tomorrow, so if you need us, look there." Cas nodded and disappeared.

I glanced at my watch. **10:40**.

"I'm gonna head to bed," I said. "See you in the morning."

"See you."

I slipped out of the room and into the one next door, locking the door behind me. I had left Sam and Dean with the second key to my room, keeping only one key for myself. I set it on the nightstand.

I made my way to the bathroom, brushing my teeth quickly. During the day we'd run out to a local store, buying some changes of clothes and other basic necessities. I had also insisted on eyeliner and mascara. I'd missed makeup.

I was more tired than I'd expected. I wondered if it was wormhole lag or something. Either way, no more than fifteen minutes later I was asleep.

_Again, the old woman flashed across my vision. I would never be rid of the scene, with all that blood spurting up at me, watching the light fade from her eyes. I was glad that I hadn't seen that with the manager. _

_Not that I wasn't seeing things from the motel. Soon the scene changed, and I was lying on the floor in the small room I had inhabited, watching my pocket knife sink into the manager's chest. Blood spread from the silver of the blade._

"_Lucy?"_

_My eyes yanked up at the voice. It wasn't the manager's heavy Italian accent but a lighter, younger voice. I would know it anywhere._

"_Peter?"_

_I watched in horror as my little brother looked down at the knife protruding from his chest. The blood was spreading still, the stain on his shirt growing, dripping down onto me. Now it was coming out of his mouth, a small stream dribbling from the corner of his lips. His brown eyes were wide in terror and agony as he choked out my name one last time. Then he collapsed on me, dead._

"Lucy! Lucy!"

I woke with Dean shaking my shoulder roughly, yelling my name in my ear. I scrambled backwards, pulling the sheets up and over me.

"Are you ok?" Sam was there, hanging back, though his face was twisted with concern. Him and Dean. They were both stripped down to their underwear, and Sam had a nasty bed head.

"Yeah." I glanced around, panting. "What happened?"

Dean backed up, sitting on the bed closer to the door. "You were screaming," he said. "Woke us up. Probably the whole motel."

I winced. "Sorry." I glanced up a moment later, worried. "What was I screaming?"

Sam shrugged. "We couldn't make out most of it. Just the name Peter."

I sighed in relief. I didn't know if they knew what had happened in the motel room. So far they hadn't asked, and I hoped it stayed that way. I didn't know how to tell them that I'd killed the manager.

"Who's Peter?" asked Dean. I sighed.

"My brother." I lowered my gaze, running my hand through my hair. When I glanced up again Sam and Dean looked uncomfortable.

"You can go," I told them. "I'm fine. I'm sorry I woke you."

Dean smiled reassuringly. "It's not a problem," he said. He stood to go.

"You sure you're ok?" asked Sam. He hung back a bit, waiting for my answer. I nodded.

"Yeah, go, I'm fine. Night."

"Night." With a frown, Sam shut the door behind him.

"Say cheese."

I tried not to let my smile be the type that looked like I was thinking about hitting Dean upside the head with the camera pointed at me. Which was hard, because that was exactly what I was thinking. The camera flashed, and I stepped over to see the results.

"I look like I'm plotting someone's murder," I whined. Sam chuckled as he peered over my shoulder.

"Let's try again." Vince took his camera back and gestured for me to return to my position in front of the wall.

Vince was tall and lanky, with brown skin and black hair. The tips of his hair he'd dyed red. This, he'd explained when we'd entered, was for an upcoming football game.

Sam and Dean went to him whenever they needed a new ID. Whether it was because they had used their current IDs too often or because they needed to impersonate a different type of official didn't matter. Vince was their guy.

I was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, just like Sam and Dean. They had insisted that they get me a driver's license, just in case I ever ran into any cops. I'd decided not to remind them that I was still seventeen. Hopefully it would say eighteen on the ID.

"Alright." Vince positioned the camera, peering at me through the lenses. "Shift to your left just a touch. Good. Now-"

"Say cheese." I aimed a glare at Dean. If he said that one more time…

I laughed when a moment later Sam held his hand over Dean's head, giving him bunny ears. He flexed his fingers, making the ears go up and down, and I chortled. The camera flashed.

"Beautiful." Vince was appraising the photo, holding it out for Sam and Dean to see. "What did you do?" he asked them.

The two brothers shrugged, one in confusion, the other trying to impersonate innocence. I giggled as I went to look at my photo.

"That's still not good," I stated. Dean rolled his eyes.

"You'll never be happy with it," he said. "It's fine. It's great. Let's use it." He handed the camera back to Vince, who brought it over to his computer.

An hour later the ID was ready. Vince handed it to me with one last inspection of his handy work.

"Thanks." I examined it, noting with glee that it had 1996 as my birth year. That made me eighteen.

"Thanks man." Sam pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and handed it to Vince.

"Thank you." Vince stuck the wad into his own pocket. "See you next time," he called.

We each gave him a wave as we exited the shop. Vince had his operation under disguise as a sports shop, but anyone who knew what package to ask for was brought into the back room for a fake ID.

The impala was waiting outside, and we climbed in. Dean pulled into the streets.

"Do you even know how to drive?" he asked.

"More or less," I said. "My dad gave me a few lessons. I never really had much time."

"Really?" Sam glanced back. "What were you doing all day?"

"Homework."

Dean snickered. "You see, I never had that problem," he stated.

"That's because you spent high school making out with the cheerleaders under the bleachers," commented Sam. Dean shrugged nonchalantly.

"So now what?" I asked.

"Now, we head to the bunker," Dean said. I nodded.

Sam glanced back at me again. "Did you get any sleep last night?" he asked. I could tell he was eyeing the shadows under my eyes.

"A bit," I lied. Sam pressed his lips together, but let the subject drop.

We spent the rest of the day in the car, making our way to the bunker. Dean took extra caution as he drove, not wanting to take any chances that we were being followed. It was getting dark by the time Dean drove to the base of one of many hills out in the middle of nowhere. There, nearly hidden, was a large door. Sam got out to pull it up.

It was a garage door. Inside were a bunch of antique cars, many of which I recognized from the show. I even saw the motorbike that Dorothy had ridden. Dean pulled the impala into an empty space and climbed out.

"Home sweet home." He stretched, and when he stood straight again I saw that he was already much more relaxed. When Sam returned from pulling down the door, I saw that he was too.

"Come on." Sam headed to the door to the bunker, which was set into the wall a few feet away. "I'll give you the grand tour."

The boys led me through the bunker, showing me the kitchen and the weight room, containing a bench press, bunching bag, and salmon ladder. There were also several weapons lined up. I could imagine the boys coming down there to work off some steam, Sam taking to the punching bag, Dean grabbing a gun and aiming for the targets on the opposite wall.

We left soon after, and they took me to the library, which contained all of the men of letters's knowledge.

"I've been going through this place," Sam told me. "Seeing what they've collected, adding some stuff of our own."

I nodded, eyeing the ceiling high shelves that stretched up and down the large room. "That must be taking a while."

Sam grunted. "You have no idea."

"And here," Dean shoved aside some shelves, "is our dungeon."

I stepped forward as the room was revealed. It was dark and cold, and I waited a moment for my eyes to adjust. In the center of the room was a devils trap painted in white paint, a single chair sitting at the center. There were also chains anchored into the floor.

I glanced back at Dean. "I feel like if I actually go in there you'll lock me in."

Dean chuckled. "Only for a few minutes."

I laughed and quickly retreated from the dungeon. "Nice try."

Sam led me to the bedrooms. There was an entire hallway at least. Probably more.

"Pick a room." Sam moved to one on the right, tapping the handle. "Not this one though. This one's mine."

"And this is mine." Dean leaned against a door a few feet further down the hall, this one on the left side. "But you can pick from any of the other rooms."

I nodded, drifting slowly down the hall. Which one should I choose? I pushed open the second door on the right, peering in. The room was big, bigger than my room at home had been. There was a bed against the far wall, a nightstand next to it. To the left of the door was a dresser. Other than that the room was bare.

I turned to Sam and Dean. "This one works." I doubted the other rooms were any different. I would be able to add to it over time, make it my own. The thought was both comforting and sad all at once.

"Come on." Sam tossed his bag into his room and closed the door. "Let's get something to eat."

I nodded and set my bag on my new bed before following the brothers down the hall. Dean started rifling through the fridge as Sam and I sat at the table.

"What've we got?" Sam called over his shoulder. I faintly heard Dean gag, and a moment later something hit the trash can.

"We've got peanut butter, pretzels, and beer." Dean made his way into the dining room with a four pack of beers in one hand, a jar of peanut butter in the other, and a bag of pretzels clenched in his teeth. He let the bag fall onto the table, setting down the beer and peanut butter a moment later. "Unless you want the moldy- whatever that was that I just threw out."

"Great." Sam eyed our selection. "Looks like I'm going shopping tomorrow."

I chuckled and grabbed the pretzels, tearing the bag open. "Can you pass the peanut butter?"

With a quirk of his eyebrows, Dean slid the peanut butter across the table. I unscrewed the lid and shoved a pretzel stick inside, using it to scoop out some of the brown gooey yumminess.

"Is that even good?" Sam eyed my makeshift meal distastefully.

"Yeah." I turned the pretzel bag towards him. "Try it yourself."

Dean reached over and snagged a pretzel, and a moment later Sam gave in and did the same.

"Mmm, not bad." Dean licked peanut butter off his fingers.

"Yeah." Sam reached over for another pretzel.

"So, movie night?" Dean glanced back and forth between the two of us.

"Do you even have a TV?" I asked.

"Nope." Dean grinned. "We have the internet. So, what movie?" He glanced at me. "Please not another chick flick."

"You liked _The Notebook _and you know it."

Dean astutely ignored me, and Sam laughed.

"Don't worry," I chuckled. "I'm in more of a sci-fi mood. _Avengers?_"

Dean nodded. "I can go for that. Sammy?"

Sam nodded. "Sure. I'll grab the computer." He disappeared down the hallway. While he was gone I moved to the kitchen, filling a glass with tap water. Peanut butter and pretzels were good, but they made you thirsty.

We stayed in that night, crowding around the table with the computer. By the time the movie was over we'd polished off the pretzels, leaving us with peanut butter for breakfast the next morning.

We dispersed quickly once the movie finished. I ended up sitting on my bed, staring at the wall.

My room.

It almost felt like a betrayal. I had left behind my old life so quickly, so easily. I already had another family, another home. Was it too soon?

I grabbed my bag, slowly standing with it and moving to the dresser. I finished shoving the clothes into the drawers quickly and set the bag down in the corner. I was officially moved in.

I wasn't sure what to do next. I wasn't tired. And I still didn't have a book to read.

I curled up in bed, staring at the wall where the light threw shadows and resisting the urge to make shadow puppets. I didn't want to go to sleep. I knew all too well what waited for me there, in the dark depths of my dreams. I didn't want to face it.

Finally I stood, slipping out of my room and into the hallway. I was pretty sure I could remember the way to the library. It ended up taking me nearly ten minutes, but eventually I made it.

I moved along the shelves, wondering which book to read. I had no idea what was in any of them. What did the men of letters write about? Something told me there wouldn't be any homemade apple pie recipes in there.

I grabbed a random book off a shelf, bringing it over to a small table at the end of the row and turning on a lamp. I had to blow a thick layer of dust off the book before I could open it, doing my best not to inhale the small grey particles.

The book was by a woman called Jane Newberry. Apparently she had met an angel, something that had never happened to a man of letters before. I was simply impressed that she had become a man of letters. A photo of her was pinned to the inside cover, black and white. It must have been a hundred years old, back before women could even vote. She must have been one hell of a woman.

She looked like it. Brown hair was pulled back from her face, arched eyebrows throwing shadows over dark eyes. Her lips were painted; I imagined that if the photo were in color the lipstick would be a ruby red. She was narrowing a look at the camera that was half glare half grin. It seemed like she was almost daring the cameraman to mess with her. I decided I liked her.

I turned the page to see her handwriting, sprawling across the page in a neat cursive. She had met an angel named Anna while collecting information on djinns. Jane had nearly been killed on the job, but Anna had been nearby, and had rescued her.

I paused to think. Anna. Where did I know that name?

Oh yeah. She was the angel that had torn out her grace, falling to earth to be reborn in a human body. After regaining her grace after meeting Sam and Dean, she had gone rogue and tried to kill them and then their parents to stop the apocalypse.

Her presence on earth made sense. Even then, at the beginning of the twentieth century, she must have been thinking of her unhappiness in heaven, maybe even plotting her fall. Maybe she had snuck down from heaven often, wandering about, trying to act normal, human. I doubted she was the first.

I glanced down at the page. Jane had sketched a drawing of Anna. In the drawing the angel had possessed a woman with high cheek bones and a delicate look. Her hair was drawn lightly, so I assumed that the wavy locks cascading around her face were blonde.

I kept reading. Anna and Jane had struck a bond, and Jane had taken a very long leave of absence to spend some time with Anna. The two had traveled around the globe as a couple. As they had, Anna had divulged precious secrets about her kind to Jane, and Jane had written them down. Each and every one.

But I could tell in the introduction to the book that Jane hadn't been using Anna for her information. Yeah, she had copied down everything her angel lover had told her, but that was probably more of a habit. Maybe a sense of duty to the men of letters had compelled her to collect those files. But it hadn't been her purpose in traveling with the angel. Her love for Anna was clear in her writing, and not just in her words. The pen strokes were more even where Jane had spelled out Anna's name, as though she had taken her time to form the letters just right. They were darker too, indicating she had spent minutes, maybe hours going back and tracing over Anna's name, a smile coating her lips. It was a heartwarming thought, one that still held a twinge of sadness. Both of these women were dead. I felt like I was bearing witness to their legacy, their memories.

I shook aside my feelings, flipping to the next page in the book. The introduction was over, and now the facts began. Here I paused. Should I read this? It wasn't mine to know, mine to collect. I doubted Anna had even known Jane was writing the book.

I shook myself. It didn't matter if Anna had known. She'd turned out to be a psychopath in the end anyways. And besides, if I was going to be a hunter, I had to be comfortable with doing a lot more than reading up on heaven's secrets. It was always better off to know something and not need it than to need to know something later and not have the information. I was pretty sure that was how Sam and Dean had gotten themselves into messes like the apocalypse.

I continued to read.


	11. Chapter 11

"… 49, 50."

I collapsed on the mat in the weight room, panting. 50 pushups without a break. Off to the side Dean laughed.

"You're weak," he chortled. I tilted my head just enough to glare at him, then lowered my forehead back to the mat.

"Here." Dead tossed a bottle of water to me; it hit the floor next to my head. "Drink up."

I pushed myself into a sitting position, tearing the lid off the bottle and chugging. I glanced over at Dean, watching as he did pull ups on the salmon ladder. A minute later he started to climb, wrenching the metal bar out of the notches and shifting it to the notches on the next level. Then he repeated.

He paused at the top, grinning down at me. "Feel better?" he asked. I nodded. "Good." Dean started back down the ladder. "Now do fifty more."

I groaned, but did as he said.

Afterwards, Dean let me lay there for a few minutes, leaning against the wall. Then he came over and sat on my feet.

"Now give me fifty sit ups," he ordered.

"Seriously?" I glared at him as I scooted into position.

"Seriously." Dean took a gulp from his own water bottle. "How are you supposed to hunt if you aren't in shape? It's not easy work. Before I let you do anything, I gotta know you can handle yourself."

I winced as I completed my tenth sit up, then let myself sag on the floor for a minute. "Then shouldn't you be teaching me how to fight?" I asked.

"I will." Dean tapped my leg. "Sit ups, now. But that's not gonna help you if you're going against a wendigo. They're not gonna use jiu-jitsu. You gotta have muscles."

"How much muscle do you need to fight?" I asked. Twenty sit ups. I could do it. I paused for another rest.

Dean shrugged. "You really don't. Fighting isn't about strength, or speed. It's really more thinking; knowing what you can do and using it to your advantage. But the more muscle you have, the more you can do."

Thirty sit ups. "When are you gonna teach me how to fight?"

Dean's mouth quirked in a smile. "Once you've finished the sit ups. Keep going."

I finished the fifty sit ups a couple of minutes later, and after a water break Dean had me do fifty more.

Afterwards I sat against the wall. I was covered in sweat, my back and arms hot and sticky. I was wearing a sports bra and tight fitting shorts, so I could feel the wall behind my back. My feet were bare.

"Ok." Dean moved to the center of the room, gesturing for me to join him. I stood and made my way over, setting my water down on the bench press.

"Jiu-jitsu time," he said. He stood facing me, his left right leg slightly closer than his left. "Imitate this position," he ordered.

I did as he said. "What ne-" I yelped as Dean grabbed me and threw me. I landed on my side and rolled, scrambling to my feet.

"Good." Dean shifted to face me again. "You got up fast. You want to do that. The longer you're down, the longer they've got to finish you off."

"How do you do that?" I asked. Dean grinned and resumed the position from a few moments ago.

"I want you to come at me like you're gonna head butt me," he said. "But don't send your head into my stomach. Put it right here." He tapped his right hip area.

I did as he said, waiting for further instructions.

"Now, wrap your arms around my leg," Dean said. "Around my thigh. Step in, you want your legs past mine."

I did as he asked. I ended up almost hugging his leg, my head embedded in his hip. My feet were practically under his body.

"Now step out with your left leg," Dean said. "As you do, I want you to throw my leg. Do it hard and fast."

I did, and to my surprise Dean went tumbling down. A moment later he was up again, grinning in pride.

"Good," he said. "That was good."

"You ok?" I asked. Dean glared.

"In a fight you cannot stop and ask if whatever you're fighting is ok," he stated. "The point is to get them to _not _be ok."

I scowled. "Well this isn't a fight," I said. "And I'm not trying to hurt you."

"You couldn't if you tried," Dean commented.

"Oh really?" I rushed Dean, trying to pull the same move on him as I had just done. He sidestepped, sweeping his leg up and over my head. I whirled to see him standing to the side, grinning. I charged again, and this time Dean didn't move. But he wasn't in the right position for me to pull the move that he'd taught me, and I knew that if I wasted time trying to coax him into it he'd have me on the ground in seconds. I settled for punching him in the stomach.

Dean grunted and doubled over, and I took the opportunity to slip to his side. When he turned to face me he was in the right position, and I charged, going to throw him. Again he merely stepped over my head.

"Not fair." I pushed myself up; I had fallen on the mat, and turned to face him. Dean snickered.

"Wait here one sec." He disappeared into a side room, returning a minute later with a pair of boxing gloves and boxing mitts. He tossed me the gloves.

"Pull em on," he said.

I did as he said. They were a bit big, but I could deal. Dean slid the mitts onto his hands and held them up.

"Hit me," he ordered.

I grinned and struck out, my right fist connecting with his right mitt. Dean smiled as I followed with a punch with my left hand.

"Not bad," he said. "You get some muscle on you and you'll have a mean hook."

I grinned. A moment later Sam poked his head through the door.

"Hey," he called. "I got some food. Can you give me a hand?"

We followed Sam out to the car, unloading the bags of groceries that he'd shoved in the back. As soon as we finished the three of us all went to the training room.

I watched Sam and Dean spar for the next fifteen minutes. Sam, although the larger of the two, still ended up on his back each round. I tried to analyze some of the moves they were pulling, hoping to use them later, but they were moving far too fast for me to catch anything.

We trained for the rest of the afternoon, Sam and Dean working together to teach me how to fight. By the time we wrapped up I was exhausted, sweaty, and more than a little sore. I hit the shower.

"Hey Cas." Sam looked up with a smile, and I turned in my chair. Cas was standing just behind me.

"Hello." The angel pulled out a chair next to me and settled into it. "I came to see how you were settling in." He turned to me.

I smiled. "Fine, good." I studied his expression. The skin in between his eyebrows was creased, his mouth turning downward ever so slightly in a frown. "Trouble in heaven?" I guessed.

Cas sighed. "One of my brothers was found dead," he told us. "We don't know what killed him."

"How'd he die?" Dean entered, balancing three plates of grilled cheeses in his hands. He set them down on the table and pulled out a chair.

"His throat was slit," Cas said. "It looks like the killer used one of these." He tossed his three edged blade onto the table.

I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. "What are these made of?" I asked.

Cas pulled the knife gently from my hands, sliding it back up his sleeve. "A special steel found only in heaven," he said. I nodded.

"Do you think it's another angel?" asked Sam.

Cas's frown deepened. "I don't know," he said. "But I'm concerned for my siblings. And if it is another angel, even heaven isn't safe."

I put my hand on his arm. "Hey, it's alright. We'll figure out who did it." Cas turned to face me, and I smiled reassuringly. A moment later he returned the smile.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" asked Dean. He was watching Cas worriedly.

The angel shook his head. "No," he answered.

Dean nodded. "Let us know," he offered.

Cas nodded, standing. "I have to go," he said. "I just needed a few minutes away. Let me know if you three need anything." He didn't wait for a response, vanishing into thin air.

I curled up in my room after dinner with the book I'd taken from the library. I had spent the whole night reading it, and was about halfway through. I couldn't help but think that my choice in reading material was a bit ironic, given the news Cas had come bearing that night. I hoped that I might find something useful in the book, but without more information on the killing, I wouldn't know if I found something. But I had by now gone forty eight hours without sleep, something that was starting to catch up to me. I fell asleep with the book in my hand.

_I was standing in the street, just in front of the driveway. The house was the same as I remembered it, white walls and red shutters. The driveway was cracked from time, the cracks more intense by the patio steps, where the three children who'd grown up there had jumped from the door to the drive._

_I smiled softly, inspecting the house. It was so calm, so peaceful. But I knew how crazy it was inside. Three kids could really wrack up a storm. But it was the best storm ever made._

_I started up the driveway, up the steps and to the front door. I stuck my hand in my pocket, fumbling for my keys, then stuck the right one in the door. With a twist, it opened._

_The interior was cool, air conditioned. There were stairs in front of me, two sets. One led downstairs to the garage, the other upstairs to the main part of the house._

_I started up the stairs, gazing around me as I did. To my left was the dining room, a polished wood table gleaming softly under the lights. Past that would be the kitchen and living room. At the top of the stairs a hallway lead to the right. Through there were the bedrooms._

"_Mom?" I called. "Dad?" I reached the top of the stairs, looking around me at the photos. Pictures of me, my brother, and my sister decorated the walls, as well as a few family photos. I drank it in. Never had I loved those photos so much. I had no idea why._

"_Is anyone home?" I tried again. "Peter? Jackie?" My voice was met only with silence._

_Where was everybody? It was noon on a Saturday afternoon, it wasn't like anyone had to be anywhere. _

_Suddenly an image flashed through my mind, of Peter with a knife embedded in his chest, blood dripping from his mouth and onto me. My knees felt weak, and I clutched at the banister. Where had that image come from? Panic engulfed me as the picture flashed through my head again. Where was my family? I ran down the hall._

_I didn't have far to go. There was a small closet on the right side; directly after it was the room Jackie and Peter shared. I had often wondered out loud what my parents would do when the two of them became too old to be sharing the same room. They'd said that since by then I'd be off at college, Jackie could have my room._

_I shoved the door open, peering inside. I was afraid of what I might see. As it turned out, that something was a fort._

_It was made of mattresses, pillows, and blankets, all stacked together in a great big canopy. The window was open, and a soft breeze was blowing their makeshift roof. The roof in question was purple with white flowers on it._

"_Hello?" I smiled in relief as I heard giggling from under the fort. They were alright. They were fine. The little brats._

_I went onto my knees, ducking my head into the entrance and crawling inside. "I'm coming in," I called. More giggles met me._

_There was a sheet hanging in my way, but I could see movement on the other side. Under the sheet I could vaguely make out a small brown hand scrambling back. I laughed as I pushed the sheet out of my way, lunging forward and snagging the owner of the hand in my arms._

"_Gotcha!" I twisted to my right as a flash of movement caught my eye, and a moment later I held two squirming children. I laughed as they struggled, then gave up with a final squeal._

_I sat up, throwing the sheets off of our heads. Forts were fun when you were little, but when you got big they were just suffocating. I glanced down at Jackie and Peter, laughter bubbling up in my throat. But when I saw them all I could do was scream. Their eyes were black._

_I scrambled backwards, eyes wide. Everything was coming back to me now, the wormhole, the demons, everything. I clenched my head in my hands._

"_What's wrong?" Jackie's face pouted, her lips going into a guppy imitation. But I knew it wasn't her. Peter was watching me curiously, his brown eyes wide._

"_Won't you play with us?" he asked. They shifted as though to crawl forward, and I ran._

_I scrambled to my feet, bolting for the door. My eyes were downcast as I went, busy trying to make sure I didn't get tangled in sheets and blankets, so I crashed headfirst into my dad. I stumbled back as he and my mother stepped into the room._

"_What's wrong?" he asked. I put my back to them, trying to press them out of the room as I watched Jackie and Peter- no, the demons inside Jackie and Peter stand. _

"_We have to run," I told my parents. "Run now. They're demons."_

"_Lucy," my mother said. "Don't say that. There's nothing wrong with them."_

_I turned to yell at them, to scream for them to run. But when I looked up at their faces everything I'd planned on saying fled from my mind. Two pairs of black eyes stared down at me._

"_Nonononono." I backed away, towards the window, tripping over a comforter as I did. My parents and the kids formed a line as they moved closer to me, black eyes staring at me._

"_There's nothing wrong with us," the demon in Jackie echoed. "Come and play." _

_I shook my head, moving further away. Now my back was pressed against the wall next to the window._

_My mother, or what used to be my mother, smiled at me. "It's ok," she said. "Soon you'll be just like us. Then you can play all you want." Together they took a step towards me. I considered jumping out the window._

_A moment later black smoke exploded into the room, from the very window I was about to hurl myself at. It filled the room, blocking out my view of my family, blocking out everything but the blackness. _

_Then it came for me. Black smoke filled my mouth, my nose, rushing into my body. I choked on it, falling to my knees, but there was nothing I could do. It filled my mind, clearing the room as it entered my body. As the smoke dissipated, working its way into me, my family once again became visible. The demon possessing my mother smiled as it moved to stand in front of me._

"_It's ok," it said. "Now we can all be together."_

I reared upright in bed, a scream caught in my throat. I sat there for a minute, coughing and panting. What was that? I leaned against the headboard as I fought to catch my breath, my back sticky with sweat. Suddenly the only thing I knew was that I needed to see my family. I reached out, grabbing my phone off my nightstand and hitting number three on speed dial.

"Hello?" came the response at the other end. "Lucy?"

"Cas." I paused, still out of breath. "Are you busy?"

"Thanks again," I said. Beside me Cas nodded silently.

We were had just arrived at my house, and were standing across the street. In the yard we were on was a cherry blossom tree, and I made my way over to it, heaving myself onto the lower branches. Cas appeared in the branch above me, and reached down to pull me up.

"You know this isn't your real house, right?" he asked a minute later. We were situated on a thick branch halfway up the tree, hidden by the green leaves.

"I know." I craned my neck to see around a branch hanging in my face. "I just need to know that they're alright. I can't explain it."

I could feel Cas turn his head to watch me, worry coating his face. I ignored him, keeping my gaze fixed on the house across the street. It was exactly like my house had been in my universe, white siding and red shutters. The white paint on the front porch was peeling.

I glanced at my watch. It was 7:30 at night. I doubted I would see anyone, but hope and more than a little fear kept me pinned to that tree branch.

The front door opened, and a shape moved out. Average height with long, curly black hair, the girl jogged down the front steps with a bag of garbage in her hand.

"Who's that?" I whispered. Cas glanced over.

"That's you," he whispered back. "You don't know what you look like?"

I shrugged. "I do; it's just different seeing myself in person. I remember reading this theory that humans perceive themselves in certain ways, so if one day some guy met himself on the streets, he wouldn't recognize the person he was looking at as him."

Cas nodded. "It's an interesting theory," he stated. I nodded. By now the parallel version of me had shut the front door behind her, cutting off my view of the interior of the house. I sighed.

"Do you want to go inside?" Cas asked. I glanced over at him in alarm.

"We can't," I said. "They'd see us." That would be hard to explain. Two Lucys and a guy in a trench coat. I tried to imagine how that conversation would go, and then gave up. It just couldn't happen.

Cas shook his head. "I can make us invisible," he said.

"Seriously?" I remembered he could turn himself invisible, but I hadn't realized he could make someone else besides him vanish.

Cas nodded. "Seriously." He appeared on the ground, leaving me to clamber down after him. As I started to lower myself from the last branch he caught me around the waist, setting me down gently next to him. He took my hand.

A moment later we were in my house. There was a great bay window behind the kitchen table; we stood in front of it. In the living room I could hear the TV going, and we moved forward slowly, trying not to make any noise. Even one creak of a floorboard would give us away.

Somehow we managed to cross the room, and stood in the kitchen, peering into the living room. My parents sat on the couch against the right wall, Jackie and Peter sitting in between them. The parallel version of me was just reaching the couch, and she slid in between her two younger siblings, putting her arms around each.

I felt tears come to my eyes as I watched them. They were so happy, so carefree. They had no idea we were even here. They were simply enjoying each other's company. They had no idea how precious that company was.

I knew then that I didn't belong there. This wasn't my family, wasn't my home. My family was in a different universe, still wondering, hoping that I would come home. They would never know what happened to me. Maybe that was a good thing.

But I was intruding here. These people, with their school and their TV shows, they didn't belong in my world. They didn't deserve to look into the darkness, into the black eyes of a demon. Just like I no longer belonged in this world. I couldn't sit and watch shows anymore, pretending that everything was hunky dory. I knew better. Hopefully they never would.

I turned to see Cas watching me. As I looked at him he smiled comfortingly, and I realized that I was crying silently, tears leaking down my face. I nodded that I was ready to go, taking one last look at the life I'd left behind.

We were back in the bunker. Cas and I landed in my room, just in front of my bed, and I sank down gratefully. The room had never seemed so bare, with its simple sheets and bare walls. There weren't any clothes overflowing from the dresser, no homework stacked in the corner. I didn't know what I would make it into overtime, but it would never be the same as what I had had.

"Are you ok?" Cas sat next to me, peering at me worriedly.

"Yeah." I nodded, sniffling back fresh tears. "I just, I don't know." I couldn't find the right words to express how I felt.

"It hurt," Cas guessed. "Seeing the life you could have had."

I glanced up at him. "Yeah," I whispered. "Exactly."

Cas pulled me to him in a hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered into my hair. "I know you can't go back, and I know this isn't a replacement for your family, but-"

"Stop." I pulled away and looked the angel in the eyes, a deep, piercing blue. "Stop it now. Yeah, you three didn't raise me, but you were there for me when I needed you. You've saved my life how many times already? And when I got stuck here in this universe with you, you all just let me move in, let me take up room in your lives. You're a pretty damn good family if you ask me."

Cas smiled, but there was something behind his eyes that I couldn't quite put my finger on. He pulled me into another hug, kissing the top of my head.

"Thank you," he said. He stood, taking a step away from the bed. "You should rest," he told me. "You need it."

I nodded and crawled under the covers. "Night," I mumbled.

"Goodnight." Cas vanished, and I turned off the lamp next to my bed. Within minutes I was asleep. This time, I didn't dream.


	12. Chapter 12

"Lucy, time to get up." Sam poked his head through the door and I groaned, glancing at the clock.

"It's 7:00," I whined.

"So?" Sam stepped further into the room. "We gotta get to the store before the lines-" He ducked as I threw my pillow at him, and it slammed against the wall behind him. He quickly shut the door, safely on the other side.

"Sam," I called. "Sam?"

Sam opened the door again, letting just his head peek into the room. He was probably afraid I was going to throw something else at him.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Can you bring me back my pillow?"

Three hours later I clomped into the dining room, yawning. Dean glanced up from his coffee, leaning against the counter as he waited for the microwave timer to hit zero.

"Morning sleeping beauty," he called. I shot a half willed glare over my shoulder and poured myself a steaming cup of caffeine.

"Where's Sam?" I asked.

"In the library. He said since he had to wait for you to get up he might as well get back to organizing things in there."

I nodded and grabbed a bagel from the counter. "You sure you don't want to come with us?" I asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Positive. You kids have fun. Don't know why you want to do all this anyways."

I leaned against the counter. "It's Christmas!" I exclaimed. "How do you not celebrate that?"

"Jewish people don't," Dean stated.

"You're not Jewish." I took a gulp of coffee, wincing as it scalded my throat. I had better let it sit for a few minutes. "It's one of the few times of the year when people are supposed to be nice for once. I'd have thought you'd love that."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, generally my Christmases involve hunting the things that don't abide by that rule."

I sighed and left the room, padding down the hall towards the library. Sam was sitting at a table, a stack of books and his computer in front of him. He glanced up as I came in.

"Hey." He flipped the laptop shut and stood. "Careful with that." He gestured to my coffee.

"I know. You ready?"

Sam nodded, following me out of the library. "You know, all the stores are gonna be crazy by now," he warned me.

"Don't you go backing out on me." I sent him a warning glare over my shoulder as I walked, then turned my attention back to not spilling my coffee. Sam sighed and kept walking.

I had asked them the previous week where the Christmas decorations were. They had been home nearly a week and they hadn't put anything up. Not a single snowman or stocking. I'd decided someone needed to. But then they'd said that there weren't any decorations. Apparently they weren't too big on celebrating Christmas, which I thought was ridiculous, since they had a great big bunker to decorate. It wasn't like they were spending the New Year in a motel room.

So I'd spent the last week convincing them to buy some decorations. We didn't have to get much, I'd argued, just something. We deserved twenty four hours of being normal. Finally the two brothers had agreed, albeit reluctantly. So, the day before Christmas I was herding Sam to the nearest store for some tinsel and a fake tree.

He'd been right about the crowd. I couldn't move a foot in either direction without bumping into someone. They were everywhere. People buying wrapping paper or other last minute decorations, maybe ingredients for their favorite recipes. There were more than a few spouses who'd forgotten to get their significant other a present.

I grabbed a wagon, guiding it towards the entrance. Behind me Sam did the same.

"Let's split up," I told him. "I'll get the food, you get the decorations."

"Do you know how to make anything?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." I shot a grin over my shoulder. "I just follow the directions on the box." I sped off down an aisle.

It didn't take too long to get the food. I kept it simple, knowing the oven in the bunker was small. I had no idea what I was gonna do when Thanksgiving rolled around; I didn't see a turkey fitting in there. I bought a bunch of chocolate Santas and stocked up on chips. I might as well get ready for New Year's Eve.

Then I had two more stops to make. Towards the back of the store they sold ornaments, large glass orbs packaged individually. I bought four, as well as glitter glue. Then I made my way to the clothes department. I had to get the boys presents.

I decided on scarves. Hats came off too easily, and gloves would get covered in blood and dirt within minutes. Plus, I could imagine Dean using his scarf to strangle something.

I grabbed a sapphire blue scarf from the rack. It was perfect for Cas. I moved deeper into the rows of accessories until I found an apple green scarf and a ruby red one. I buried them at the bottom of the wagon, under a bag of cheese doodles, and headed to the front of the store. Sam met me at the register, and I tried not to panic as I started to unload. How was I going to sneak the presents buy him?

"Oh!" Sam's eyes grew big. "I forgot something. Keep unloading, ok?"

I nodded as Sam darted back into the store, sighing in relief. Quickly I pulled out the scarves and shoved them at the cashier.

"Ring these up quick," I pleaded. The cashier chuckled as he did so, then hurried to scan several more items. By the time Sam returned, the bag containing the scarves was hidden under two more bags. The cashier looked like he was fighting back laughter.

"What'd you forget?" I asked. Sam grinned and set a plush little elf on the pile of chips.

"Elf on a shelf," he crowed.

"What?" I stared at the elf in confusion. It had on a red suit, with a white fringe around its neck. Big eyes were staring with a cute little expression fixed on its face. It was a bit freaky.

"Elf on a shelf," Sam explained. "It's supposed to sit in your house and watch you, make sure the kids are behaving and all that."

I nodded. "You know Dean is gonna hate it, right?"

Sam grinned. "That's why I got it." He dug his keys out of his pocket. "Here, go get the car started, it's just this left. I'll be out in a minute."

I grinned as I took the keys from him. He thought he was so clever. He had presents he was hiding too.

"Sure," I said. Behind me the cashier was chortling.

I loaded the bags into the car and turned on the heat, climbing into the passenger seat. I had brought the scarves up to the front with me, and sat with my jacket bundled up in my lap, the scarves hidden underneath. Sam came out a few minutes later, tossing the elf in the back on top of the chips.

As soon as the bags were unloaded from the car I ran the scarves to my room, keeping them bundled in my jacket as I went. Dean helped us to put the food away, aiming a disgusted look at the tinsel. When he found the elf, I heard him yelp.

"What the hell is that thing?" I turned to see the elf on the floor, Dean staring down at it in alarm. Sam and I laughed.

"It's an elf on the shelf." Sam explained its purpose to his brother.

"It's cute," I lied.

"It's creepy." Dean glared at it, and I picked it up.

"What's the matter Dean, you don't like it?" I brought it closer to his face, and he swatted it away. I chuckled as I tossed the elf to Sam.

As soon as the groceries were put away Dean herded me off to the training room. We started with the usual pushups and sit ups, then went to the jiu-jitsu. Sam chuckled as Dean knocked me on my back again, loading weights onto the bench press.

After dinner I brought out the ornaments and glitter glue, sitting with them at the table. Dean peered over at me.

"Are you making ornaments?" he asked.

"Yeah." I inspected the box of glitter glue I had; red, blue, green, and gold bottles. "Wanna help?"

"Sure." Dean sighed and scooted closer, grabbing the green bottle. He got to work painting his name onto the surface of the white orb while I took the gold to another. A few minutes later we set our two ornaments down on the table, the names **Lucy **and **Dean **laid out on their surfaces. I hoped nothing made them roll before they finished drying, or gold and green glitter would go everywhere.

Dean grabbed the red bottle as he started on Sam's, and I took the blue for Cas's. At least I knew I'd done a good job picking out their scarves, if Dean's color selections were anything to go by. We set them on the table to dry.

Sam came in and started slinging tinsel over the bookshelves that lined the dining room. Little pieces started coming off, drifting through the air before settling on the nearest flat surface. I laughed as Sam wrapped Dean in a length of the silver stuff. Now that we'd bought the decorations, he was getting into the holiday. He was maybe even more excited than I was. I pulled the fake tree we'd bought out of the box, setting it in the corner and plugging it in. Multicolored lights lit up on it.

Dean fled to his room when Sam set the elf on one of the bookcases off to the side, leaving the two of us alone. I glanced over.

"You're really getting into this," I said. Sam shrugged.

"We never really had great Christmases when we were kids," he explained. "I figured maybe we can turn that around. Besides," he glanced over his shoulder, making sure that Dean wasn't eavesdropping. "I think Dean needs it."

I nodded. I had been thinking the same about them both.

I curled up in bed that night after reading from the latest book I'd taken from the library. I wasn't afraid to fall asleep anymore, having not had another bad dream since visiting my family.

The day after Cas and I had snuck into that house, I had sat in bed thinking. Not about my family, I was determined to put them out of my mind, but about the events that had occurred in the motel.

Even if I hadn't been wielding a pocket knife, the manager still would have died, throat slit by the demon once it had slipped into my body. And if I'd had a proper knife, I knew, one like Cas's, or even Ruby's blade, I still would have killed him. There still would have been a knife in his chest, but it would have taken the demon with it.

Death, I'd realized, was inevitable with this job. If I was going to hunt, I needed to get used to it. I couldn't sit in my room and cry every time I killed a werewolf terrorizing a town, or some demon. No matter who it was possessing.

The next morning was Christmas. I was the first one up, rushing to the kitchen to set up some coffee. I knew the scent would lure Sam and Dean from their rooms.

The ornaments were dry, and I hung them on the tree, chuckling at the fact that Dean had written **Sammy **and not just **Sam **on his brother's. A few minutes later the two brothers stumbled into the kitchen.

"Please tell me you've got more than just coffee going," Dean moaned. I giggled and set a plate of bacon on the table. Immediately his face brightened.

I ate quickly, jogging back to my room. I had wrapped the scarves in plastic grocery bags, and I grabbed them and brought them out to the table.

"Here." I chucked Sam and Dean their scarves, and they unwrapped them.

"What's this?" Sam grinned as he uncovered the red knit fabric. "Thanks!"

"Fuzzy."

Leave it to Dean to act like a child. The not so grown man wrapped his around his neck, rubbing it in between his hands. "Thanks," he exclaimed.

I nodded with a grin.

"Who's that for?" Sam gestured to the third scarf, which I had set on the table next to me.

"Cas," I answered. "Hopefully he'll show up on his own and we won't have to call him down here."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Dean warned. He dug around in his pocket, pulling out two items wrapped in newspaper. He tossed one to each of us.

"Seriously?" Sam held up the hair clippers that he unwrapped, and Dean snickered.

"Nah. Here." He produced another package and tossed it to his little brother. Sam tore off the paper, revealing a shiny new watch.

"Thanks man." Sam slipped it onto his wrist, fastening the clap. As he did I tore open my present.

"Ohh." I held up the pair of purple dangly earrings, watching the fake gems catch the light. But I didn't care about that part. They were gorgeous. I pulled them through my ears. "Thanks," I said. Dean nodded, looking pleased.

"Catch." Sam tossed two newspaper wrapped packages at us, and Dean and I caught. This time I got to open mine first.

It turned out to be a tube of lipstick and an eye shadow palette. There was a whole range of colors there, ones that would give me a subtle look and those that would really pop. I grinned as I imagined Sam standing in the makeup aisle of the store, gazing at the rows of cosmetics in fear.

"Thanks!" I set the items down, already working out in my head what to use first. Sam had also thought to include some applicator brushes. He must've had help from someone who worked at the store.

Dean tore open his present, uncovering a small silver picture frame. He glanced over at Sam questioningly.

"For that picture of Mom you've got in your room," Sam told him. A soft smile split Dean's lips.

"Thanks Sammy." Dean stood and tossed another package on the table. "I'll go put this on the picture. You call Cas down here."

Sam nodded and pulled out his phone, pulling out his own present for the angel as he did. A few minutes later Dean was back, looking around the room.

"Where is he?" Dean looked over to Sam. "Did you call him?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"You texted," I corrected. "Try calling."

Sam did, shaking his head. "Voicemail," he told us. "Hey Cas, it's Sam. When you got a sec, come on down to the bunker." Sam flipped the phone shut.

I felt a hard ball form in my stomach. Something felt wrong. Maybe he was just busy, but I could sense that if he wasn't in danger now, he soon would be. We needed to find him.

"Are we sure he's ok?" I asked. "I've got a bad feeling."

"Me too." Dean disappeared, returning a few minutes later with our phones. "Do you have any messages from him?"

I checked. There was nothing. "No," I said. "You?"

"No."

"Can we track his phone?" I asked.

"Maybe." Sam grabbed the laptop from where he'd left it on the table the previous night. "If he's on earth we can."

Dean and I waited while Sam fiddled with the computer. A few minutes later he glanced up. "He's in Nebraska," Sam told us. "A couple hours away. Are we going?"

Dean considered. "Yeah," he decided a minute later. "I've got a gut feeling. Let's hit the road."

We showered quickly, and I took a few minutes to slap on some makeup, my usual mascara and eyeliner plus the lipstick Sam had given me. I slid the earrings into my ears. I stopped at the table quickly and grabbed Cas's presents, shoving them all into the plastic bag.

Sam and Dean were already by the car, and we quickly piled in. I spent the drive tapping my leg nervously. Needless to say, the Christmas joy had been pulled from the air.

"Ok." Sam narrowed the parameters of his search for Cas's phone as we pulled into McCook, Nabraska. "There's a bunch of railways at the south edge of town; he should be there somewhere." Dean nodded and guided the car to the edge of the city.

Several minutes later we were there. There wasn't really any snow on the ground, but the wind was blowing hard. I saw Sam and Dean wrap their scarves securely around their necks as they climbed out of the car.

Directly in front of us was a bunch of tracks, trains sitting on them. They probably weren't scheduled to be going anywhere until after the holidays. I followed Sam and Dean to the back of the car.

"Here." Dean handed me a gun filled with rock salt.

"I don't know how to use that," I said. Nonetheless I took it.

"Hopefully you won't need to," he said. "You're staying with me."

I nodded as Dean stuck Ruby's knife in his belt. Sam did the same with the angel blade they had. I rubbed my hands together as they slammed the trunk of the car shut, each holding guns in their hands.

"Let's go." Dean started for the tracks and I followed, Sam staying behind us. Once we reached them he headed off in a different direction, and I shifted closer to Dean, my heart pounding.

Everything was quiet. The only sound was the wind blowing against the train cars and our footsteps. I tried to step quietly, but it was next to impossible. Suddenly Dean held up his hand, his muscles tensing. I came to a stop just behind him.

A demon jumped down from the car to our left, and Dean shoved me back. He tripped as he did, going down, and the demon moved in, grinning savagely.

I raised the gun, pointing it at the demon and squeezing the trigger. As a bang reverberated through the air the gun kicked, and I stumbled back. To my surprise, the demon fell to the ground, the salt round hitting him in the chest. Dean jumped up and stabbed it.

"Nice," he said. "Thanks." I nodded, my mouth dry.

"Dean?" Sam appeared around the corner, gun raised. He lowered his arm as he came closer.

"We're good." Dean rubbed his shoulder. "I thought you said you couldn't shoot."

"I didn't think I could," I said. "Must've been luck."

We started forward again, moving down the train. As we came to each car we opened the door, ready for something to jump out at us. Nothing did.

"What's that smell?" I gagged as we moved further down the tracks, holding my hand over my nose. It smelled like rotting flesh.

"Something dead." Dean moved forward with renewed energy, and I could see by the tenseness in his muscles that he was growing increasingly worried. Sam and I exchanged a glance and followed.

Dean threw open a train car, stepping back and coughing as he did. There was a man inside, lying face up. He was clearly dead; worms and maggots were already picking at his flesh. I forced myself to move closer and froze.

Sam pulled me away from the cart as I gagged. "His throat is slit," he commented.

"Yeah." I pointed into the car. "And he's got wings."

Sam and Dean peered closer, cursing a moment later. The black wings were spread out, draping up the side of the car and crossing at the ceiling. "Angel," Dean muttered.

"Now we know why the demon was here," Sam said. "But where's Cas?"

My head whipped around as we heard a rattling off to the side. The next train over was shaking, as though something had slammed into it. The three of us bolted for it, throwing open the nearest door and climbing across. Cas was on the other side, and he wasn't alone.

There were three demons with him. The four were engaged in a vicious dance, the demons forming a triangle around Cas as they tried to land a hit. The angel was holding up pretty well, dodging and parrying with lightning speed. I glanced to the right, down the tracks, and saw two more demons headed our way.

Sam started for those two, Dean moving in to help Cas. I hung back, knowing that with only a rock salt gun and very little training I couldn't do much. I would only get in the way.

I spun as something clambered through the train car towards me. Another demon. I raised the gun and fired off a shot, the salt round ricocheting off the inside of the train car. As the demon continued forward, unfazed, I pulled the trigger once more. Nothing happened.

I frowned, clicking the trigger again. Something must have been stuck. The demon jumped out of the car and barreled into me, and the gun fell out of my hand. It slammed me against the next car, its fist driving a blow into my stomach. I doubled over, crying out.

Then there was a flash of light. I squeezed my eyes shut, letting myself sink to my knees as it filled the air. Even with my eyes shut, flares of light danced across my vision. I rubbed at my eyeballs.

"Are you ok?"

I opened my eyes to see Cas kneeling in front of me, worry on his face. To the side lay the demon, smoking. I nodded, my vision still a bit unsteady.

"Are you?" I asked. Cas didn't respond, standing and pulling me to my feet. I glanced around. All but one demon was dead, and within a moment Dean had stabbed it. It crumpled to the ground, and he wiped his knife off on it.

"You two ok?" he called. Cas nodded as I gave a thumbs up.

"Let's get out of here." Sam started for the car. "People will have heard the gunshots; the police will be on their way."

We waited until we were safely away from the railways, back over the state border into Kansas before talking. Dean pulled to the side of the road, twisting so he could see Cas.

"What happened?" he asked.

Cas had been looking out the window, now he glanced around the interior of the car, meeting all of our eyes.

"Many of my siblings didn't want to go back to heaven, even after it was restored," he began. I knew the introduction was for my benefit. "They decided to stay on earth, continuing the lives that they had started. For many angels, that was the lives their vessels had inhabited." Cas sighed.

"I've been searching out these angels," he told us. "A sister of mine was found dead last week, and I realized that the angels who remained on earth didn't know what was happening. I wanted to warn them. The angel at the railway was called Nabeek; he was a good man. He'd chosen the life of his vessel.

"I tracked down his vessel's family, and they told me he'd be here. One of the trains just arrived this morning, and he was in charge of overseeing it. I came to warn him, but when I arrived, he was already dead."

"Has been for a while," Dean commented. Cas nodded.

"His family hadn't seen him for two days before. He often came home late, especially with the holidays. They thought he'd just gotten home and left while they were still in bed."

"Well, at least now we know for sure it's demons," Sam offered. Cas didn't comment, and I reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." I waited until he met my eyes to speak. I smiled softly, and after a moment he returned it.

"Come on." Dean put the car into gear and pulled onto the road again. "Let's get to the bunker. You need some time away."

Cas shook his head. "I can't. I have to warn the other angels." He vanished.

I sighed. "Is he gonna be alright?" I asked.

Sam glanced back at me, worry creasing his brows. "I don't know," he admitted.


	13. Chapter 13

"Cas, it's Lucy. We havent' seen you since the railway; what's going on? Call me back, ok? Or just pop into the bunker." I paused, unsure what to say next. Was happy holidays appropriate given what was going on? Did the angel even care about the holidays? The phone beeped again, telling me that my time was up, and with a sigh I flipped my phone shut.

"Any luck?" Dean stuck his head in my bedroom door, and I shook my head sadly. We hadn't heard from Cas in days, ever since the railway. And with demons actively hunting angels, the three of us were sufficiently worried about our trench coated friend. We hadn't slept much since Christmas.

"Let's get some food." Dean disappeared down the hallway, and with a sigh I followed him. Sam was already in the kitchen, looking at the directions on a box of mac and cheese.

"Have you heard anything from Cas?" he asked.

"I just tried his cell," I said. "Nothing."

Sam sighed. "Do you think we should track his phone again?" he asked.

"I don't know." Dean thought for a moment, then grabbed the computer. "Let's do it."

I came to stand over his shoulder as he logged on. "How about we watch where he pops up," I said. "And if he doesn't move soon enough we go to him."

"Sounds fair." Sam glanced over to Dean, and the older brother nodded.

"He's in New York." Dean glanced over at me, then back to the computer. "Nope, he's moved. Hold on." We stood and waited while the computer found his phone again. "Germany," Dean said a minute later. "What's he doing in Germany?"

"You don't think angels fell solely in the United States, do you?" I asked. Dean ignored me.

"I am not flying to Germany," he commented. He shuddered, standing and leaving the table before either Sam or I could object.

"Hopefully we won't have to." Sam sat at the computer and stared at the red dot that was Cas's phone, as though he could will it to transition to Lebanon, Kansas.

I woke up that night feeling like someone was watching me. My heart pounded as I listened. I couldn't hear anything, but that didn't mean much. Turning over in bed, I reached over to the nightstand for the pocket knife I kept there. My hand closed around it, and I twisted, snapping out the blade as I turned to face whoever was in my room.

"Don't move," I ordered. I couldn't make out who it was in the dark, just a figure standing against the wall. I reached over to the lamp, never taking my eyes off the figure.

"Cas?" I let my hand relax as the light revealed the trench coated angel. The angel in question didn't move, not even his eyes. I rolled my own. "You can move," I told him. "I didn't realize it was you."

"Oh." Cas detached himself from the wall with a frown. "I'm sorry."

I nodded, setting the knife back on the nightstand. "What are you doing here?" I asked, stifling a yawn. "Why were you watching me sleep?"

"I was trying to decide if I should wake you," he told me. "Should I leave?"

"No, I'm already awake. What's the point?" I sighed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. "Why are you here?"

Cas turned his head away, taking his time answering. I really hated it when he did that. "I just…" he paused, uncertain how to continue. "Dean was right. I need to get away."

I nodded. "Well you're in luck," I told him. "New Year's Eve is tomorrow. We've got snacks and everything. Just what you need."

"What's that?"

I rolled my eyes. "You know how the earth goes around the sun?" I waited for Cas to nod. "Basically New Year's Eve is when the earth completes its orbit, and everyone throws a party to celebrate the fact that a meteor didn't wipe us out of space or something."

"That seems… interesting." Cas seemed unsure about what he thought of the event. I laughed.

"Definitely. Come on, let's get something to eat."

Cas followed me to the kitchen, and I riffled through the shelves, trying to be quiet. I didn't see the need to wake Sam and Dean. I ended up opening the bag of cheese doodles, setting them on the table in between Cas and I. The angel reached over and took one, inspecting the orange sponged surface. His lip curled in disgust.

"Oh come on." I grabbed the cheese doodle from his hand. "These are good." I popped it in my mouth. Cas shook his head sadly.

I swallowed. "Can I ask you something?" I asked. Cas glanced over at me.

"Of course," he said. His eyes dimmed to a royal blue as a serious look took over his face. "What is it?"

"You never eat, which I get, cos angels don't need to. Except, when we were traveling together, you never turned down a burger. Why is that?"

Cas smiled sadly. "Jimmy," came his one word answer.

"Jimmy?" I frowned. "Wasn't he-"

"My vessel, yes." Cas sighed. "After Lucifer killed me, well, you remember, yes?" I nodded. I'd been horrified watching how Cas had exploded in a spray of red blood, then thrilled when he'd suddenly reappeared.

"You were reformed," I recalled out loud. "No one knows who brought you back. But when you'd been killed, Jimmy died, and he didn't come back with you."

Cas nodded. "When Dean, Sam, and I faced the horseman of famine, I learned that Jimmy was fond of red meat. So I suppose I eat the burgers to honor his memory."

I smiled. That was sweet. I wasn't sure how to respond. I settled on leaning over and planting a kiss on his cheek. Cas's face reddened as I pulled away, and I laughed softly.

"Hey." We glanced up to see Dean stumble in, Sam just behind him. "Cas! Where the hell have you been? We've been worried!"

Cas stood as Dean moved in for a hug, the older Winchester slapping his hand on his youngest brother's back. Sam came in next, and he and Cas hugged as well.

"I'm sorry," Cas said. "I had to warn the other angels."

"Did you get to them all?" Sam gestured to the computer. "We've been keeping track of you, you were in Germany."

Cas frowned. "How did you do that?" he asked.

"We tracked your phone." Dean snagged a handful of cheese doodles. "As long as it's on and you're on earth we can find you."

Cas nodded slowly, his eyebrows creasing. For lack of anything better to do he reached over and grabbed a cheese doodle, biting down. We all watched him, waiting for his reaction.

Cas made a face, grabbing a wad of napkins and spitting the munched up piece of cheese doodle in it. "No," he coughed. "I'm sorry. That is- that is bad."

We all laughed. Dean doubled over, his hands on his thighs, Sam turning away and leaning against the wall, his shoulders quaking. I was forced to sit down before my laughter knocked me over. Cas moved over to the tree, touching the ornaments hanging from its branches. I smiled as he fingered the one with his name on it, **Cas **written in blue glitter glue.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's an ornament." I stepped over, pointing to the others. "We wrote our names on them and put them on the tree. It's a Christmas tradition to have an ornament with your name on it."

"It is?"

Sam nodded. "Apparently. My Christmases were generally Kentucky Fried Chicken and whatever present Dean stole from the nearest house."

Dean crossed his arms. "You loved that doll and you know it."

Sam shot Dean a quick glare before moving to the tree. "Here." He shoved the cord into the wall, and behind the ornaments the tree lit up. Cas caught his breath.

"You like it?" Dean grinned as Cas nodded, lost for words. I gave him an _I told you so _look.

By unspoken consent we put aside all issues, temporarily forgetting everything that was wrong with the world. Cas opened his presents, my scarf, Dean's watch, and Sam's picture frame. Cas held up the frame.

"What's this for?" he asked. "I don't own any photos."

"You will." Sam grabbed a camera I hadn't known he'd had, setting it up on its stand. "Just like last time," he said. He glanced around. "There's just been a few changes in who's in it."

With a shock I remembered an old photograph, of the Winchester trio, along with Bobby, Ellen, and Jo. The photograph had been taken the night before they'd tried to kill Lucifer with the colt. The night before Ellen and Jo had died. I wiped the tears from my eyes and joined the boys in front of the tree for the picture.

Sam, being the tallest, stood in the middle, Dean and Cas flanking him. I was in front, leaning comfortably against Sam's stomach, Dean and Cas each with a hand on my shoulder. The camera flashed.

A few seconds later the picture ejected from the camera, and Sam started waving it in the air as the ink set or something. I had no idea how those old cameras worked. When the picture was ready we looked at it. It was nice, the tree lighting up the background, the corner of the cheese doodle bag visible on the table. We looked normal, not like we spent our free time chasing demons and other monsters.

"Nice." Sam handed the photo to Cas, and he carefully set it into the frame.

"Where do I put this?" he asked. "I don't have a place that's mine."

"You can keep it here." Dean took the silver frame and set it on the table. "You know this place is your home too, right?"

Cas looked like he didn't know what to say. He looked around at the three of us, and slowly silence befell the group, until the only noise was the soft whirring of the machines that powered the lights.

We all ended up in one of the spare bedrooms, dragging in a bunch of blankets and sheets. We piled them on the floor until the entire room was one big soft mattress, sprawling out all around. The setup reminded me of my last nightmare, but I fervently pushed it out of my mind. We were acting normal for the day.

We chatted about this and that, nothing important. When I glanced over at the clock I was surprised how much time had passed. It was five thirty in the morning, five hours after I had woken to find the Cas in my bedroom.

Just because it was the last day of the year didn't mean Dean was going to let up on me. He dragged me to the training room, Sam and Cas watching as we trained. Sam took over after a while, commenting that Dean could take it a little bit easy on me.

I could feel Cas's blue eyes watching me as I trained. Why, I had no idea. I had no idea what could possibly be so interesting about seeing me get my ass kicked repeatedly.

"Better." Sam reached down to pull me up. I grasped his arm, annoyed and tired. He wasn't much better than Dean at the whole taking it easy thing.

"Next time, try using this." Sam showed me a move, and I tried- and failed- to copy it. I ground my teeth as I toppled over.

"Come on, that one's easy." Dean rolled his eyes as I failed a second time. "Even Cas could do it."

I glared at him. "That doesn't really help me, does it? And that is not an easy move."

Dean pushed away from the wall, gesturing for Cas to join him on the mat. "Try the move," he instructed the angel.

Cas slipped into action, and a second later Dean was lying on his back, Cas standing over him. I couldn't help but smile at the sight. A moment later my grin faded as I realized Dean had been right.

"Great." I threw my hands up in the air. "This is impossible."

"No it's not." Dean stood, taking over again. "You're gonna do bad. You're gonna get knocked on your backside, but one day it's gonna click. Then you'll be knocking us over."

"My New Year's Resolution," I stated.

"What's that?" Cas was confused again.

"It's a promise you make at the start of each year, something you want to do, or want to never do again. It's like a checklist, and you give yourself a year to do it."

"What if you don't?" Cas asked. "What then?"

"Then nothing." Sam shrugged as he grabbed his water bottle. "Generally you just make the same resolution each year until you finally do it."

Cas nodded. "Are we all making New Year's Resolutions?" he asked.

"If you want." Dean thought for a minute. "Let's see, mine is gonna be to eat more pie, drink more beer."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'll go for organizing that library." He winced, and I laughed. He'd barely made a dent in the shelves of books.

"What should mine be?" Cas glanced around at the three of us.

"How about no more just standing in my room while I'm asleep," I suggested. "Seriously, it's creepy."

Cas nodded. "Sorry."

"S'ok." I glanced at Dean. "Please tell me we're done for the day."

Dean chuckled. "Sure. Hit the shower."

I fled from the room before he changed his mind and called me back for more sit-ups.

When I got to the kitchen Sam had the oven going, and was pulling out a tray of pigs in a blanket. He and Dean were freshly showered, dressed in their usual flannel. I was no different, but somehow it looked cute on me. I wasn't sure if I liked that or not.

I grabbed one of the pigs in a blanket off the tray, popping it in my mouth.

"Hothothothot." I hopped around the kitchen, rushing to swallow it as it scalded my mouth and throat. Sam laughed.

"Warning, those are hot." Dean clomped into the kitchen, Cas on his heels, and I glared at the smirk the eldest brother had on his face.

"Thank you Captain Obvious."

"We should get out of here." Sam leaned against the counter. "We don't have a TV, we should go to a café or something and watch the ball drop."

"Why is that?" I asked. "I thought you two did have a TV."

"It got smashed," said Dean. "Long story."

"But we just made a bunch of food," I objected.

"And we'll eat it," Sam promised. "Tonight, tomorrow, trust me, it'll get eaten. But don't you wanna see the ball drop?"

I sighed. "Yeah," I admitted. I glanced over at Cas. "Do you know what we're talking about?"

Cas nodded. "I do this time," he stated. He looked so proud of himself.

We hung around at the bunker for the majority of the night, playing cheap board games that Sam and I had bought at the store. By eleven thirty we were situated at the nearest café, sipping hot cocoa as we watched the little TV on the corner of the bar.

Around us were a few other people. A young couple that was escaping the wind, a businessman who had nowhere else to be but the office. Behind the counter the owner was tidying up. I suspected his big business booms were earlier in the night and early the next morning, when all the drunks came out looking for another beer.

We watched the New York City celebration, watching singers parade across the screen as they put on a show for all the poor idiots who'd decided to go freeze their butts off. As the final countdown for the year began an energy seemed to take over the café, one last burst of adrenaline as the giant orb sank lower and lower.

The woman in the corner of the shop laughed with excitement, shouting out the countdown. Soon the rest of us were counting with her, timidly at first, then with more fire, until we were all screaming.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, happy New Year!"

As the clock struck midnight I glanced around me at the three people I was with. Their faces were flushed, even Cas's, the frenzy of a brand new year taking hold in them. Dean was grinning like a fool as his eyes swept left and right, taking in every minute detail as though he'd never seen before. Sam was laughing silently, for no particular reason at all, and Cas looked for the first time like he was at peace. I smiled as I watched my family ring in the New Year.


	14. Chapter 14

I studied my new tattoo curiously, moving my eyes along the black lines that made up the first star and the empty space crisscrossing over it that was implied to be a lighter star. Black flames, sketched in ink, leapt out from the pattern, making it seem like the pentagram within was expanding in its power, a fiery guardian.

The ink nearly blended into my skin, but my dark brown skin was just light enough of a brown that the ink wasn't completely lost against it. Depending on what angle I looked at it from, the tattoo had varying degrees of visibility. I had put it on my waist, just above my right hip. There, it would be hidden from sight, even if I decided to wear a tank top when summer came.

I hurried to throw on my shirt as someone knocked on my door, throwing it open a moment later. Dean was leaning against the frame, the keys to the impala in his hand.

"Come on," he said. "It's time you learnt how to drive."

I grinned and followed him down the hall, grabbing my wallet and stuffing it in my pocket as I went. As we reached the car Dean turned to me, letting the keys dangle through his fingers. Hesitantly, I reached up for them.

Dean pulled his hand back before I could take them. "Ground rules," he started. "Do what I say, when I say it. If I tell you to stop, you stop. If I say hit the gas, just do it. If I tell you to let me drive, don't ask questions, just slide over. Ok?"

I nodded. "Got it."

"And you know which pedal is the gas and what's the brake?"

I nodded. "Right is gas, left is brake."

Dean nodded, then extended his arm again. This time I grabbed the keys and ran for the driver's door.

The lesson went pretty well. Dean was a good teacher, patiently guiding me through the streets on the edge of the nearest neighborhood. After a few hours he allowed me to drive back to the bunker. The whole time we were on the main road I gripped the wheel until the hard rubber dug into my fingers.

Sam was polishing off the last of the pigs in a blanket, quickly shoving the last in his mouth as Dean and I clomped into the room. Dean scowled at him, but reached for a bag of chips. I sighed and grabbed an apple; someone had to eat healthy.

"How'd she do?" Sam swallowed the food in his mouth, wincing as it all crammed down his throat. Dean nodded thoughtfully, leaning against the counter.

"Not bad," he admitted. I grinned as Dean gave me a smile, Sam's grin nearly matching mine.

"Great," he said. "And here's you're reward." He pulled a pig in a blanket out from where he'd hidden it under a napkin and handed it to me. I laughed and bit down, enjoying primarily the taste of hot dog, secondly Dean's outraged look.

"I think I found us a case," Sam added. He moved into the dining room, turning the laptop towards us. Dean and I scanned the article together, and I hit the down arrow to scroll through the paragraphs.

There wasn't much to it. A couple had gone ice fishing on a lake buried deep in a forest in Pennsylvania, and they hadn't come back. They weren't the first to disappear. Over the past few months, five other people had gone missing.

"I don't get it," I said. "If that many people have gone missing there, why do people still decide it's the perfect spot to go hiking?"

Dean chuckled. "Well, two of them were rangers looking for survivors. The first three were college students spending the weekend after Thanksgiving in one of their parent's cabin."

I nodded. "And these two?" I gestured to the screen. "I mean, come on! How stupid are people?"

Sam chuckled. "You tell me. You're the one who latched onto an angel and two hunters from a different universe."

I scowled and crossed my arms. "Shut up."

The two brothers laughed. "So," Sam turned to Dean. "We leave tomorrow?"

Dean nodded, a pensive look in his eyes. I frowned as he moved silently down the hall. Sam and I traded looks.

"I'll go talk to him," Sam told me. "You go pack."

I nodded, pleased by his offer. It meant that he planned on bringing me with them. Like I would have stayed behind. I'd have hid in the back of the impala before I let those two work a case without me.

I checked my phone as I shut my door behind me, but there were no messages. It had been a few days since New Year's Eve, and we hadn't heard from Cas since. He'd accompanied us back to the bunker, where we'd spent another hour or so celebrating the New Year. As it became apparent that Sam, Dean, and I were about ready to fall asleep where we stood, Cas had bid us goodbye and vanished. I somehow doubted he had gone to another party.

I sighed and tossed the phone on my bed. Wherever he was, I hoped he was alright. I started to pack my backpack, shoving in several changes of clothes and my toiletries. It took me all of ten minutes. I curled up in bed with the latest book I'd taken from the library, falling asleep with it clutched in my hands.

The next morning I stumbled into the kitchen to see Sam and Dean pause in a whispered argument. They both shot me a glance, then resumed arguing furtively under their breaths.

I rolled my eyes. "What's going on you two?" I asked. Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother, daring him to tell me. With a sigh, Dean turned to face me.

"We think you should stay here," he stated.

"_We _do not think that," Sam interjected. "_He _does." Sam shot a glare at his brother, but it was a candle next to the bonfire of my own glare.

"I will not stay here," I said. "I'm here for a reason. To be a hunter! I can't do that if I can't hunt!"

"You're not ready yet," Dean snapped.

"I handled myself well enough at the railway," I shot back. "I saved your ass." Dean gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore my comment.

"You're still not ready," he said. When I continued to glare at him he held up his hand in a peace gesture. "Listen to me. I have no problem with you working cases. I mean, I wish to god that you didn't want to hunt, but I know you'll do it no matter what I think, so the least I can do is keep you safe! I just don't want you to get hurt Lucy! Ok?"

I gulped. I could tell I'd struck a raw nerve with Dean; his usually twinkling green eyes were positively flaming, worry, anger, and guilt swirling around in a giant whirlpool. I forced myself to calm down. Yelling at each other wasn't going to help anything. Past experiences had proved that.

"I know," I said. I forced my voice into a calm tone as I spoke, doing my best to soothe Dean. "I'm not saying that I want to go running at everything that goes bump in the night just yet, I just don't want to get left behind." I averted my gaze now, tears threatening to spill over. I forced them down. "Yeah, I want to go on the actual hunts. But I'm willing to start small. Put me on research duty. Just don't leave me." I choked to a stop, squeezing my eyes closed. I could imagine myself pattering around the bunker for the next few days, waiting for Sam and Dean to get back. I didn't want to do that. Didn't want to be the one left behind, waiting, hoping that her family would come home. And a part of me was afraid that if they left, even for a day, they'd decide that they didn't want me anymore.

They were all I had here. This was the only home I had in this world, these brothers and Cas, the third, unofficial brother, were the closest thing I had to family. I couldn't lose them too.

I forced myself to look up as I felt a hand on my shoulder. Sam smiled softly down on me, and I forced my lips to curl up in response. Glancing across the room, I saw Dean leaning against the counter, trying to compose himself. Eventually he nodded slowly, finally meeting my eyes.

"Ok," he said. His voice was slightly deeper than usual, though still steady. "You can come. But do what I say ok? And be careful."

I nodded, for once not in the mood to make a joke out of my response. "Promise," I whispered. Dean nodded, pleased, and pushed off the counter, ruffling my hair as he passed by me. Sam shot me a quick grin.

It took us a day to get to Pennsylvania, and we arrived midday. The first thing we did was find a motel and settle in. Sam and Dean seemed a bit weary to have me by myself, but I managed to assure them that I would be fine. They were right next door, not all the way across town. Nothing would happen.

Nevertheless, I was still a bit nervous as I locked the door behind me. Sam and Dean had gone to take a look at the police's records, under the guises of FBI agents. Since I was too young to pass off as any sort of official, there was little I could do. I was on standby until I got word from one of the brothers, ready to start researching on the computer.

Two hours later a knock came at the door. I approached slowly, heart pounding, knife out, and looked through the peephole. Sam and Dean waited impatiently on the other side, still in their suits. With a sigh of relief I opened the door.

"What'd you find out?" I asked. Dean threw himself onto the bed closest to the door, Sam parking himself at the table and stretching out his legs. I curled up at the bottom of the bed Dean was on, switching my gaze back and forth between the two.

"Not much." Sam spread a map out on the table. "There aren't any bodies, but all six vics went missing in around the same area." He pointed to the map, where a red circle encompassed a small area of forest. A small portion of that land was taken up by a lake, small in diameter, but big enough to house a lovely view for several small cabins.

"This cabin here is where the three college students were staying," Sam said. He pulled out another map, this one showing only the set of cabins and the area around them. A red x had been placed over the second cabin to the bottom of the page. "And this is the same lake that the latest vics went missing on." Sam tapped the lake the cabins overlooked with his finger.

I nodded. "So, what do we do now?" In reality I knew what the next logical step was, I just wasn't sure if I would be allowed to come with the two hunters.

Dean sighed. "You want to come, don't you," he asked. I nodded, looking hopefully into his eyes.

"I can handle it," I promised. "I'll stay with you two."

Dean traded looks with Sam, and the brothers seemed to communicate silently, in that way that only siblings who were very close could do. After several long moments Dean nodded reluctantly.

"Fine," he said. "But don't do anything stupid. And no wandering off."

I rolled my eyes. "Believe me, I have no desire to get lost in a forest in the middle of winter."

It took us over an hour to reach the trails that lead to the cabin, leaving the impala in a small parking lot just before the dirt paths began. Sam handed me a rock salt gun and a silver knife, and I stuck them in my belt, tapping my back pocket to ensure that my pocket knife was still there.

It was freezing out. The paths had long since hardened; no puffs of dirt announced our movement, no crunch of the earth under our feet. We moved silently, only the shuddering of our breaths in the cold air alerting any animals surrounding the paths to our presence.

Sam left the car first, holding the map in front of his face to direct us to the right path. After that we walked abreast each other, not saying a word. For some reason, I couldn't help but feel like it was inappropriate to talk at that time. We were on a case, and we needed to focus. I switched my attention to scanning the paths around us for any unusual signs.

We reached the cabin without incident. Yellow tap was stretched across the doorframe, alerting us to the fact that the police were still investigating the disappearances of the three college kids. We each scanned around us nervously, though I doubted there was anyone around this time of year, then ducked under the tape and into the cabin.

My heart was pounding as I held the gun in front of me, taking care to point it at the ground as I moved. I stayed just behind the boys, my eyes darting from shadow to shadow in the old house.

It was cozy, or would have been under different circumstances. A large sofa sat in the middle of the room, facing towards an old fireplace, logs and ash still littering the floor. There was a small table next to the couch that had once held a lamp, but it had been knocked onto the floor. Pictures of the family that owned the cabin decorated the walls, but many were shattered, as if someone had been slammed into them; one of the frames had even fallen to the floor. There were a few spots of blood on the floor, only adding to the evidence of a struggle. I shivered.

"There's not enough blood for them to be dead," I said. "Whoever took them wanted them alive."

I must have had something resembling hope on my face, because Sam hurried to add to what I said. "Whatever they were taken for, it's not good," he stated.

I scowled. I knew that. Five months without a trace? There was no coming back from that. Still, I kept my mouth shut as we continued to move through the cabin.

Whoever had been taken from the kitchen had put up more of a fight. Pans that had been used to batter at an attacker lay on the floor where they'd been dropped, the same with a large butcher's knife, sticky with someone's blood. A flower vase lay in shards on the counter and floor, the fake flowers it had once held fallen into the sink.

But there was no sign of a third struggle. Either two people had been taken from the same room, the third person hadn't put up much of a fight, or they hadn't been taken from within the cabin. Lifting the shades on a window, I peered out at the lake. There was an old wooden dock projecting out into the water, ice forming a rim around the support beams.

"Let's go to the lake," I said.

Dean raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "This isn't really the time for sightseeing," he objected.

"Yes it is." I decided not to elaborate, moving out of the house and heading for the dock. Sam and Dean trailed after me in mixed confusion and annoyance, jogging to catch up with my sure, rapid footsteps.

At the waterline, next to the dock, the dirt and forest foliage turned to a rocky slope. I moved to the dock, running my fingers along the rough surface. As I felt wood splinters attempt to lodge themselves in my hand I pulled away, but still moved closer to the water.

"Here," I called.

Sam and Dean moved closer, peering at what I was pointing to. Their eyes widened as they took in the brown stain of dried blood on the wood. Off to the side Sam grabbed a rock that was about twice the size of the majority of pebbles that littered the shore, turning it over in his hand.

"This has blood on it too," he commented. "Our goon must have snuck up behind the vic and hit him over the head with this." Sam looked at me inquisitorially. "How did you figure it out?"

I allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of my mouth. "They came out here in late November. The lake might not have been frozen then. I figured if I had spent my life coming up here on weekends, the one thing that I would've learned was how to skip stones." I grabbed a flat rock from the collection on the shore, skimming it out over the ice. It bounced across its surface, and though it didn't make it to the opposite shore, I could tell that it would have been a very good shot if the water weren't frozen.

"Nice job." Dean knelt down, examining the dock and the area around it. There was a hole beneath the dock, where the men who'd built it hadn't bothered to fill in the earth beneath, and Dean shone his flashlight into its depths.

"I can't see anything," he commented dryly. He eyed the hole, quickly rejecting the idea of himself fitting into it, and stood. I was already in motion, shrugging off my jacket and crawling into the tunnel, dragging myself forward on my elbows. Behind me Dean cursed.

"What are you doing?" he called. "Get out of there!" He tried to yank at my foot, but I kicked out, and I glanced back to see Sam place a restraining hand on his brother.

"Please," I called. "It's just a silly tunnel. What's the worst that can happen? A spider?"

Behind me Dean mumbled something unintelligibly. I ignored him.

I moved further into the hole. It was made of narrow, dirt packed walls, and above me the wooden dock prevented me from even raising myself to my knees. Enough sunlight filtered through the slots between the wood panels for me to see, something I was grateful for. I would have needed to twist uncomfortably to reach my flashlight.

"Anything?" Sam leaned into the hole, and I scowled as the tunnel dimmed.

"No," I called. "Get out of my light."

I crawled all the way to the other side of the tunnel. There were no tunnels leading off of the one I'd crawled into, no little alcoves where something- or someone, could be shoved. I stood, jumping onto the dock and crossing over to the side Sam and Dean were on.

"Nothing," I declared. I glanced down at myself, scowling as I realized I was covered in mud. I did my best to brush it off, then gave up. I was gonna need a shower. With a chuckle, Sam tossed me my jacket.

"So, now what?" I asked.

Dean sighed, running a hand over his head. "We've gotta find our vics," he said. He grabbed the map from Sam's back pocket, unfolding it. I peered over his shoulder.

"Are we assuming they're dead?" I asked.

Reluctantly, Dean nodded.

I glanced behind me towards the lake, then climbed up on the dock again. Walking to the edge of the pier, I stared out over the icy surface. Near the center the ice was weaker, which, I supposed, was to be expected. But there was something else on the ice, not too far away from the center of the ice. Frowning, I jumped off the dock.

"Lucy!" I ignored Sam's voice as I made my way forward, holding my arms out as I moved across the ice. I glanced behind me as I heard shuffling, and saw that Sam and Dean were following me.

It took me a few minutes to reach the center, but I did eventually. Somehow, I managed not to fall. The same couldn't be said for the other two. Sam slipped, and as Dean automatically reached out to steady him, his meager balance on the ice slipped. The two fell in a heap.

"There's a footprint!" I called. I glanced over to where the boys were helping each other stand, gritting their teeth as they struggled to get to their feet. After a minute they did so, and slowly crossed the rest of the distance between them and me.

"So someone was on the ice," Sam stated. "I'd guess recently. The ice hasn't been broken long." He was analyzing the jagged edges of the ice where the pieces met.

"The footprint is facing away from the broken ice," observed Dean. "Like someone broke it and walked away."

I glanced at him. "So, do you think?" I trailed off. I had already guessed at the answer, it was why I'd come out here on the lake in the first place. But it was finally dawning on me that to find out, we'd more than likely have to get in the water. The thought wasn't all that appealing.

"Only one way to find out." Dean pulled Ruby's knife, and gesturing for us to move back, knelt down and stabbed it into the ice. A chunk broke off.

Sam and I knelt to help him, slowly widening the hole. Soon we looked down into the lake, the surface of the unfrozen water beneath rippling as pieces of ice bobbed on the surface.

"I can't see anything," I complained. "The water's too murky."

Sam nodded. "And this ice isn't helping either." He scowled at the chunks bobbing on the surface of the lake, obscuring our view.

"Stop your whining," muttered Dean. He turned and headed back to shore, and we followed.

"Look for sticks," he ordered. "The biggest you can find."

We nodded and split up. I made my way into the cabin, seeing if maybe there was anything useful there. There was a sort of garage under the house, where a variety of tools were gathered. I looked over them. A couple of fishing rods, a shovel, and some tennis rackets. A small boat was upside down so that water could drain out of it, the oars sitting to the side. I grinned as I grabbed one. Perfect.

"I got something," I called, leaving the cabin. Sam and Dean appeared, nodding with approval at the long wooden oar I held. We made our way back out to the center of the ice, where Dean took the oar and proceeded to poke at the water with it.

First he pushed the chunks of ice to the side, and I lay on my stomach on the edge of the ice and hauled them up beside me. Once they were out of the way, Dean thrust the paddle deeper into the water, poking around as he felt around its murky depths. He frowned at one point, moving the paddle around, and I saw a dark shadow pass over his face.

"What?" I asked. Sam took the paddle next, then allowed me to poke around. There was something big floating in the water, weighed down by something tied around its center. It was both hard and soft at once, frozen in the frigid temperatures, but still soft enough that it gave a little as I poked at it. I felt something catch, but whatever it was it didn't prohibit me from pulling the oar free without too much effort. It took me a minute, but then I realized what the thing was. A body.

I swept the paddle from side to side, and quickly found another body. Once I'd done that I handed the oar back to Dean, and he and Sam both took a few pokes at the other person under the water.

"Where are the others?" I asked. Sam shrugged.

"The last people to go missing were the rangers, and that was at the beginning of December," he explained. "These guys are probably only floating because they're all bloated. Once the fish have a go though, there won't be enough left to hold them up, just bones, and they'll sink down."

I gagged. "Oh my god," I squealed. "I am never going to get that image out of my head." I shuddered, imagining fish picking at bodies suspended in the lake. Then I shuddered again as images of the bloated faces of our latest vics flashed through my mind. Beside me Sam and Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, keep laughing, both of you," I growled. "We'll see who has the final laugh."

I got a snicker and raised eyebrow in response.

I took a deep breath. "We need to get the bodies out, don't we?" I asked.

"Yeah," Sam admitted. "They might be able to tell us what killed them."

I eyed the water distastefully. "I would prefer it if we could manage to do so without getting in." The water was already forming a thin sheet of ice on its surface. To get in would be signing up for pneumonia.

Dean seemed to have the same concerns as me. He stuck the oar back in the water, trying to bat the closer of the two victims to where one of us could reach in and grab the body. "Get the other paddle," he ordered.

Within five minutes Sam had fetched it, and together the two brothers managed to drag the body closer. Which left me to reach into the water and grab it. I pulled off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves, reaching tentatively down. The water was freezing, but I ignored it, stretching my arm until I found what felt like an arm.

I wanted to pull back, run away, and use a whole tub of hand sanitizer on my arm. But I wasn't going to be a hunter if I couldn't handle even this much gore. Really it wasn't even gore. My hand had closed around a sleeve, so I wasn't even in direct contact with the dead person's skin. So, with gritted teeth, I grabbed a hold of the corpse and pulled.

"Got it," I called. Sam and Dean set the paddles down and moved to help me, and together we dragged the body up and onto the ice. The arm I had caught a hold up led, as all arms do, to a shoulder, and I grabbed under the left armpit while Dean grabbed under the right armpit. We began to pull, and I looked up, around us, anywhere but at the bloated face beneath me.

Sam grabbed at the chain around the body's waist, hauling up the brick attached to the other end. He quickly unwound the chain, and we dragged the body off the lake.

As soon as we reached shore I dropped the arm I'd been holding, stepping quickly away. I started to wipe my hands off on my jeans, then reconsidered. I ended up awkwardly waving my arms through the air to dry them off.

Dean tossed me my jacket. Sam was already kneeling by the body, peeling away wet layers of clothes. I followed, keeping a foot or so back as the two brothers inspected the man.

"Come here." Sam gestured for me to join them, and with a grimace I knelt beside them. A hole had been torn through the man's torso, baring open his ribs and stomach. Or what had been his ribs and stomach. His intestines were a shredded mess, as though something had combed-literally-through them and picked out the best bits to eat. A hole had been punched through the rib cage, and I could see a hole in his chest where his heart had once been.

"Werewolf?" I guessed. Dean nodded, drawing the man's shredded parka up to cover the remains of his chest as best as he could.

"So now what?" I asked. I was really asking that a lot lately.

"Now we find the wolf," Dean stated. It sounded so simple in his voice, like he was talking about the most obvious of things.

"Ok, but how? We've got an entire forest to search," I commented. "We need a plan."

"I think I've got one," Sam offered.

"What's that?" I asked. I glanced up at him, frowning when I saw his attention was focused elsewhere. Following his gaze, I gulped at what I saw. Four people stood on the small hill that lead from the lake up to the cabin. Each had shaggy hair, wore matching grins, and sported rapidly sharpening teeth.

"Run," said Sam.


	15. Chapter 15

I really hate something about books. Whenever some sort of fight is about to break out, the author always puts "and then time seemed to stand still." Well, let me tell you something. When you suddenly find yourself staring down four werewolves with only a single silver dagger as a lethal weapon against them, time does _not _slow down.

Sam and Dean instantly stepped forward, hiding me from view. They raised silver blades of their own, and I cursed in my head. Had neither of them thought to bring silver bullets? Had I not thought to?

Yep, with thinking like ours, we were screwed.

"Stay back," Dean instructed me. I gulped and nodded, my heart pounding. I pulled out my knife, holding it in what I hoped was a good position. The werewolves circled around us, and we put ourselves back to back. So much for me staying out of things.

"Any ideas?" I muttered. The boys ignored me, busy scanning around us for something we could use. I did the same. I was facing the lake, with one werewolf focused on me. It seemed that the other three would be ganging up on Sam and Dean.

I figured the werewolf, who had shaggy brown hair and a few missing teeth, would expect me to play defense, maybe try to run. So I did the exact opposite, charging him as I ignored Sam's yells behind me.

The werewolf backed up to avoid my flashing dagger, moving towards the lake. I grinned as an idea formed. It wasn't much, but it was a plan. Well, half of a plan.

I moved forward again, throwing caution to the wind as I blindly swiped at the werewolf. Now thoroughly startled, the werewolf was in full retreat. As he backed up another step I pulled out my gun and fired off a shot. It flew past him, nowhere near hitting him, and he turned slightly as it punctured the lake, ice chips flying.

He laughed. "I don't think you're aim is very good," he commented. I squeezed off another round, and it hit the ice a few feet away from where the first shot had collided. I fired off two more rounds, and thin, spider-web cracks appeared on the surface of the ice.

The wolf jumped back again as I rushed forward once more, driving him out onto the surface of the lake. We both slipped as I followed him, but managed to keep our feet. I kept moving forward, and though I was much more wobbly on my feet than before I still succeeded in driving the werewolf back. Soon he was standing upon the cracked portion of the ice, and I raised the gun once more. His gaze travelled downwards, and he realized too late what I was about to do.

"No!"

I squeezed the trigger.

The ice shattered, and he dove forward. As he fell his hands wrapped around my forearms, pulling me with him. I barely had time to take a quick gasp of air before we went under the water.

It was freezing. The water felt like a hundred cold daggers being driven into my skin. All the air I'd been holding in my puffed out cheeks escaped as I screamed, water taking the place of the sweet oxygen. I tried to swim to the surface of the lake, but the werewolf now had my arms pinned. He held me where I was, and, slowed by the water, my kicks had little effect on him.

He switched my arms so that he was holding them both with one hand, then delivered a sharp blow to my stomach. The water lessened the velocity of his punch, but it still hurt. I whimpered, and water flooded up my nose.

I drove my head forward, cracking it against his. He pulled back with a yelp, panic spreading over his face as he too inhaled water. I quickly scanned around me for my knife. Where had I dropped it?

There. I could just make out the silver blade glinting in the murky water, and dove downwards. It was the opposite of where I wanted to go, especially as my vision began to turn colors, but I didn't have much choice. Through the pounding in my ears I could hear the swoosh of water as the werewolf gave pursuit, and hurried down to where the knife had settled at the bottom of the lake. I fumbled for it, my fingers barely closing around the hilt before I twisted, catching the oncoming werewolf in the eye. Blood squirted as he screamed, a sound that was audible even under the water.

I swam upwards immediately. I didn't have time to feel sick at what I'd just done. My vision was fading, my limbs feeling heavier and heavier. Reaching the top, I went to break the surface only to crash into a sheet of ice. It had already reformed. I pounded on it with my fists, then drove my dagger into it. I yanked it out and stabbed again and again, even as my vision disappeared entirely.

The next thing I was aware of was being dragged across the ice. Whoever was dragging me was making no attempts to be gentle, and I knew immediately that it wasn't Sam or Dean. As I was dumped unceremoniously on the shore I turned my head to cough, water spurting out of my mouth. I pulled myself up onto my elbows, reluctantly forcing my frozen muscles to work, and saw one of the werewolves surface in the lake, holding his companion in his arms. Blood still flowed freely from where his left eye had once been, and he screamed, long and shrill.

I looked around me. The werewolves were a bit battered, but with the exception of the one I'd stabbed, they were relatively unharmed. I glanced around me in worry, finding the motionless forms of Sam and Dean to the side. They each sported ugly welts on the sides of their heads, blood leaking down their faces. They must have been distracted by my fall into the lake, giving the other three wolves the chance they needed to take them down.

I turned weakly as I heard footsteps. A third wolf was approaching me, murder in his eyes. I cringed, knowing what was next, but my weak arm couldn't stop the tree branch he slammed into my head. Everything went dark.

I groaned as my senses returned to me, blinking dazedly. My head hurt, and I could feel something hard on the side of my face. I had no idea if it was ice or blood. Finally opening my eyes, I was worried but not surprised to feel that ice had sealed my lids shut. Groaning again, I rested my head against the wooden floor beneath me as my vision swum.

Wait? Wood?

I bolted upright, which was hard to do, and immediately regretted it. Hissing as pain flared through my temples, I sagged backwards, onto my elbows.

"Lucy?" Dean's voice came from somewhere to my right. I turned my head weakly, and when I tried to brace my hands against the floor I ended up falling. Grunting in pain, I shouldered myself into a sitting position again, only just realizing that my hands were bound behind my back.

"Dean?" I answered. "Sam?"

"Lucy!" Now Sam's voice answered me, and I scooted closer to its source. A moment later my leg brushed against someone's boot, and I nudged at it.

"Who is this?" I asked.

"Me." Sam sounded relieved to know that I was beside him. I scooted back further, until we were side by side, our arms brushing.

"Are you ok?" Dean asked.

I winced. I wasn't sure. But I wasn't about to tell them that, and it was so dark that they wouldn't be able to tell I was lying.

"I'm fine," I answered.

"You're shivering." Sam's voice rang with disapproval. I needed to work on my lying skills.

"Hold on." I heard Dean grunt in effort, then I could barely make out a figure shuffling around in the dark.

"Ow," muttered Dean. He kicked at the object he had just tripped over. "What is this?"

"My leg." I couldn't tell if Sam's voice held more pain or annoyance.

"Sorry." Dean kept moving, feeling his way in the dark. A moment later he dropped inelegantly to his knees next to me, then inched closer until he was pressed against my other side. Sandwiched between the two boys, I was still cold, but slightly less so.

"Lucy, you're covered in ice." Dean pressed himself even closer to me, and a moment later so did Sam.

We were silent for a moment, then Sam spoke again.

"There was someone else down here," he whispered. "A girl. They took her from the city. Then they came down and dragged her upstairs."

I couldn't help but glance upwards. Sam had left his statement open ended, and I knew there was more.

"And then?" I asked.

"And then they killed her," Dean answered roughly. "We heard her scream, and then it was quiet."

I shuddered, and thinking I was cold, the boys shifted ever closer. I gasped for breath.

"Can't-breathe."

They withdrew slightly, just enough that I could breathe regularly again, but still were pressed firmly to my sides.

"So," I started. "Do either of you have a plan?"

Dean grunted.

"No," Sam responded. "We're playing it by the moment."

"Great." I shifted into a slightly more comfortable positon, then winced as something hard poked into my rear end. "What the hell am I sitting on?"

"Who knows," Sam grumbled. I shifted so that I could run my bound hands on the floor beneath me. There was nothing.

"Wait!" Realization ran through me, and I crammed my hands into my back pocket. "Almost, almost, got it!"

"Got what?" Dean's voice was curious but cautioned.

I laughed as hope shot up my spine. "My pocket knife. Haha!"

"Give it to me," Dean commanded. I snorted as I snapped the blade carefully open.

"No way. I'm not taking the chance we drop it. In the dark it'll take hours to find." I turned the blade in my hands, slowly wedging it up and in between my hands. Then I pushed it against the rope tied around my wrists and began to saw.

"Be careful," Sam warned. I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see.

"There." I smiled in triumph as the cords snapped. Struggling to my knees, I rolled my shoulders. "Who's next?"

"Sam," Dean ordered. I nodded, quickly sawing away the ropes that bound his little brother, then turned to Dean. Within a two minutes he was standing, then moving around the room.

"Look for something we can use," he instructed us.

"What?" I asked. "They've probably tossed anything silver by now."

"And we won't be able to tell if it's actually silver in the dark," Sam added.

"I know silver is the supposed to be the only thing that can kill werewolves," I asked, "but is there any other way it can be done?"

"Do you have a wood chipper on hand?" asked Dean.

I smiled softly as I recognized the reference. All the same, I was forced to reply with a "no."

A moment later I heard thumping from above us. "Guys, do you hear…"

"Yeah." Dean backed up quickly. "We can't take them like this."

I knew he was referring to me. "I held out well enough first round," I shot at him. "I lasted longer than you two did."

"You also fell in a lake," Sam pointed out. "You're not exactly fit to do anything other than curl up with a hot chocolate."

I rolled my eyes. "Feel free to make me some when we get out of here." I glanced up as footsteps came from just outside the door. "Get ready."

The door opened, and Dean immediately charged whoever was coming in. The two fell to the floor with a grunt, and Sam and I rushed forward to help. Dean was straddling the shaggy haired man beneath him, punching him repeatedly in the face. As Dean pulled his hand away for another hit the wolf's head lolled limply, and Sam jumped forward and grabbed his brother's arm.

"Dean, enough!" Sam stepped behind Dean, pulling his arms back and pinning them against his own chest. Dean tried to jerk free, then suddenly stopped, sagging against his brother.

I watched him squeeze his eyes shut, panting. He stayed like that for a good minute, visibly fighting to regain control of himself. Finally he opened his eyes again. When he gently tugged on Sam's grip on his arms, Sam let go.

When Dean glanced over to me, there was guilt, and a little bit of fear in his eyes. At the look on my face his face paled, and I realized what my expression must be.

"Lucy…" Dean stood and stepped closer, and I involuntarily shifted away, my arms drawing ever so slightly in front of my torso. Dean froze, and something flashed across his face.

"It's ok." I fought to recompose my face, though my voice was still shaky. "I'm fine." I looked up and down Dean. He was dirty, with blood caking the side of his face and his knuckles. I quickly looked away from his knuckles, where the skin was peeling off. Dean, seeing my look, dropped his hands to his sides, where they were less obvious.

I steeled myself. "What's the plan?" I asked. I glanced down at the unconscious werewolf at our feet. Slowly, Sam and Dean followed my gaze.

Dean looked up at me almost guiltily. "I'm going to need your pocket knife."

I held it out, even as a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. "What are you going to do?" I whispered.

"We're going to take him hostage." Dean flicked out the blade. "All these goons look a lot alike. I bet they're family." He dragged the wolf up and onto his knees. "They'll fold like a pile of cards."

"Yeah, ok." Sam didn't seem nearly as upset with the idea as I felt. "Except for one problem. That's not silver." He pointed to my pocket knife.

"Yeah," Dean admitted. "But they won't know that. Help me out here." Together, he and Sam began to drag the wolf towards the stairs that led to the main floor of the house. I shook myself; this was what hunting meant. And what difference did it matter if we used the werewolf as bait. He was going to die anyways. We'd come here to kill him.

So, with a dark feeling in my heart, I followed Sam and Dean as they dragged the werewolf up the stairs. At the top of the stairs was another door. This I knew would lead to the cabin we were trapped in. Sam flung the door open, and we rushed through.

"Right then," Sam shouted. "Everybody just stop what you're doing."

I looked around us. There were four wolves in the room we'd just entered. One of which, the one I'd stabbed, was lying on the couch in the center of the room, unconscious. He had a gauze pad taped over his left eye, and he moaned in his sleep. The other two males were standing nearby, one young enough to be a teenager, the other older; their father I guessed. And there was a woman.

She hovered over the side of the unconscious boy, her face caught between anger and worry. As we burst into the room she whirled, and fury transformed her face into a snarl. I realized she must be the mother of this particular litter. She'd stayed behind to guard the other prisoner, the one that Sam and Dean had conversed briefly with.

"Jake!" The boy leaning against the wall, who was about the same age as the one we held prisoner rushed forward, but a quick jerk of my knife by Dean under his brother's chin stopped him.

"One more step and I slit his throat," Dean warned. The wolf growled, but halted. To my surprise however, his mother stepped forward.

"No you won't," she stated. She smiled slowly, with a grin that would have been lovely if it didn't hold such maliciousness behind it.

Dean's eyebrow raised. "And why is that?" he asked.

The woman took another step closer. "Because then you'd have no leverage," she said. "He's your only chance at getting out of here alive. And you know it."

Dean snorted. "Lady, I don't need him for a damn thing. This is just a bit neater. I can get out of here with or without him."

"Then why haven't you?" She edged closer still, and I gulped. Sam and Dean didn't seem to be noticing her movements. How thick headed were they? Meanwhile, the werewolf was smiling softly again. "I bet she's the answer." She jerked her head towards me.

Dean stiffened, and Sam automatically moved so that he was blocking me from sight with his large frame. The wolf continued. "Maybe you could fight out of here before, but not with her around. She's not trained, is she? She's not a hunter. She'll get you killed. And she'll still die." The wolf laughed, and Dean's fingers clenched around the pocket knife until they turned white. I needed to do something, and fast.

"Yeah?" I stepped forward, ignoring Sam's attempts to draw me behind him again, and faced the woman in front of me. "Well this untrained hunter is the one who took out your son's eye and dumped him in the lake." I gave her a smile that was anything but sweet, and her eyes narrowed.

I didn't see her fist coming until it was too late. She clocked me on the side of the head, and I gasped in pain, stumbling. Sam jumped forward, but she was already pulling me back, within the safety of the two other wolves that had gathered around her.

"Now then," she said. "How about a trade. Her life for my son's." Her hands tightened around my throat, until I was gasping for air. I tried to kick out, the two wolves stepped forward and grabbed my arms, pinning me in place. I jerked back and forth, but it was no use.

Dean began to lower the knife.

"Don't," I choked. As soon as her son was out of danger, she would kill me. There was no point in them giving up the one advantage they had. Dean ignored my words though, taking my pocket knife off the young man's throat.

"Lucy first," he commanded. Behind me the werewolf laughed.

"Lucy is it?" she asked. "Such a pretty name. I always wanted a daughter." One of her hands came up to run through my hair, and I shuddered in disgust. What was wrong with this lady? She was not right in the head.

_Gee what tipped you off? _I asked myself. _Was it the whole eating people thing?_

"But you see, you're outnumbered," the wolf continued. "We have the upper hand, and so all the power. Now drop my boy."

Dean ground his teeth. He then seemed to come to a conclusion, because something flashed in his eyes. Sam seemed to notice some change in his brother's demeanor, because he glanced over to him. Whatever he saw in his brother's face caused his eyes to widen slightly, but he simply nodded. Whatever it was, he was ready.

"Alright," Dean agreed. "I'll drop him."

He plunged my knife into the werewolf's chest.

"No!" All three wolves released me as they rushed forward, and I seized my opportunity. I stumbled backwards, scanning around me for something I could use. I found our knives on the dining room table, only feet away. The only thing between me and them was a couch containing an unconscious werewolf.

The couch wasn't much trouble. The kid was out cold. I jumped quickly over it, then rushed towards the table. Just before I reached it however, I was grabbed from behind and thrown into the wall. I grunted in pain as I collided with the solid wood, stumbling back and whirling.

The mother of the little pack stood across from me, snarling savagely. She had thought at the last minute to grab for me again, and had followed me across the room.

She leapt forward, and I ducked under her arms and bolted for the table. Again she grabbed me, delivering a punch to my stomach that doubled me over. Another punch, this one to my face, knocked me over.

I groaned, pushing myself up weakly on my elbows. As I rose her foot flashed out, catching me under my chin. As I landed on my back again her foot connected with my rib cage, and I cried out.

After her foot slammed into my side twice more I knew that was where she'd kick yet again and reached out, somehow managing to grab her foot. Yanking it forward, I made her lose her balance, and she crashed to the floor beside me.

I scrambled up, crawling on hands and knees towards the table, my side burning. I yelped as she grabbed my ankle and pulled me back towards her, then I kicked out. My foot connected with her jaw, and with an oomph she let go.

I used the table to pull myself up, grabbing one of the daggers and turning. The wolf was rushing at me, and I instinctively stabbed, driving the knife in between her ribs.

She screamed. Pulling away, she fell to the floor, the wound I'd inflicted sizzling with the burn of silver. Within moments she was still.

I gulped, my hands trembling. I had killed her. I looked down at myself, at my blood covered hands, and felt sick. I had killed her.

"Mom!"

I glanced up as the two wolves broke off their fights with Sam and Dean and rushed forward. Quickly, I grabbed the two other daggers off the table and slid them across the floor, past the two werewolves that were thundering into the room. While the young man fell to his knees beside his mother, the father glared at me.

"You." His address was spat like a curse word, sending shivers down my spine. I gulped and backed up so that I was pressed against the table, panic taking over. The wolf barely made it two steps forward though before he froze, his eyes widening. Then he collapsed to the floor, revealing Dean standing behind him.

"Are you alright?" he asked. I gulped and nodded, glancing around. Sam was coming up behind the unsuspecting teenager, and as I watched he grabbed him by the hair, yanked his head back, and slit his throat. I looked away as he collapsed over his mother's body, gurgling and jerking.

"Lucy." Sam rushed forward, grabbing me in a hug, and I buried my face in his shirt. When he pulled away Dean seized me as well, then pulled off his leather jacket and slung it over my shoulders. A moment later Sam added his scarf.

"Let's go," he said. I nodded and allowed them to lead me out, pretending not to notice how they stopped to slit the throats of the two unconscious werewolves. I was exhausted, confused, and in pain. Not exactly in the best frame of mind to linger around a cabin where I'd just helped to take out said family of werewolves.

The walk back to the car didn't seem to take as long as the last time, but maybe that was because I was in shock. I didn't pay attention as the boys steered me towards the impala, tucking me into the front passenger seat with blankets. Dean revved the engine and turned on the heat, and Sam settled into the back seat.

We were silent going back to the motel. There I sat, even once Sam and Dean climbed out of the car. Sam opened my door and stuck his head in.

"Lucy?" he asked. "You coming?"

I nodded mutely, unbuckling my seat belt with wooden movements. As I stepped out of the car Sam wrapped his arm around me and rubbed my arm with his hand. I wasn't sure if he was trying to warm me up or comfort me.

They left me in my room, heading to their own to get washed up. I looked at myself in the mirror in the little bathroom. The side of my face was caked in blood, my makeup smeared around my eyes from my dip in the lake. My hands were also stained in blood, but I knew it wasn't mine. I shuddered and washed it off in the sink.

I needed a shower. Not only did I need to get the rest of the blood, and the dirt, and whatever was in that lake- no I did not want to think about what was in that lake- off me, but I needed to warm up. Though ice was no longer clinging to my hair and clothes, my nose was turning that nice reddish color that only occurs when you're getting a cold, and I was still chilled to the bone. I needed a hot shower and a pile of blankets before I got sick.

I unbuttoned my shirt, letting it slip to the floor. Then I grasped the bottom edge of my tank top and pulled up- and gasped in pain.

It felt like someone had kicked me in the chest. Well, that was because someone had. I probed gently at my ribcage, wincing as I fully registered what I hadn't before. I needed to get a look at it. I tried to pull off my tank top again, but once more was forced to give up with a small cry of pain.

"Sam? Dean?" I shivered in the cold air outside the motel, wearing nothing but my tank top. I pulled out the spare key to their room that they'd given me, then paused. What if they weren't dressed? I did not want to see that.

I knocked. "Guys," I called. "It's me. Open up."

A moment later Sam opened the door. His eyes focused on my bare arms, and he frowned as he drew me into the room. "What are you doing outside without a jacket?" he asked. "Are you trying to get sick?"

I rolled my eyes. "I think I have bigger problems," I stated dryly. Sam's eyebrows raised as I took a seat on one of the beds, wincing slightly.

Sam caught the wince. "What's wrong?" he asked. He moved to the bathroom, pounding on the door. "Dean, get out here," he shouted.

He stared at me in silent worry until Dean emerged, wrapped in a towel and a scowl. I looked away from him, sincerely hoping that the towel wouldn't slip.

"What's going on?" Dean's eyes were moving back and forth between the two of us, water dripping into them. I winced in embarrassment and shifted on the bed.

"There's something wrong with my chest," I told them. "I can't get my shirt off."

Dean's eyes widened, and he took a step forward. Then he glanced down at himself, cursed, and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. When he emerged a second later he was wearing his dirty jeans, though his chest was still bare.

"May I?" he asked. He gestured to my shirt, and I nodded reluctantly. He started to pull it up, freezing when I yelped in pain. Sam quickly joined him, and within a few minutes they had gently tugged my shirt up and over my head, leaving me in just my bra.

"That's not good," Sam commented. I looked down, wincing at what I saw. A dark bruise was spreading across my chest, blue and purple.

"Why didn't you tell us your chest was hurting earlier?" asked Dean.

I shrugged, then instantly regretted it. "I didn't notice until a few minutes ago," I defended myself. Suddenly a seizure of coughing overtook me, and I doubled over. Pain fired through me with each jerking movement, and when I had finally stopped coughing I was gasping in pain, tears filling my eyes.

"Lucy?"

I groaned as I straightened again slowly. When I looked down at the arm I'd just coughed into, I was frightened to see blood spattered on it. My eyes wide, I locked eyes with Sam and Dean, who both uttered curses.

They settled me back in bed, draping a blanket over me for both modesty and warmth. Dean pulled out his phone, hitting the speed dial button.

"Cas, it's Dean," he stated. "We're in the Freemont motel in Huntington, Pennsylvania. Get here now. Lucy's hurt."

"What happened?" I spun as Cas spoke from in between the two beds, then cried out softly as my motion caused the pain in my ribs to flare. Cas turned to face me, blue eyes locking on my hand as it automatically came up to my chest.

"Werewolf," I growled through gritted teeth. Cas frowned and stepped forward, and I allowed him to pull down the blanket that covered me. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as they took in the still spreading bruise, then they flashed over to the blood on my arm.

Immediately he placed his hand on my chest, just below my bra. I ignored the way my cheeks flamed, bracing myself for what I knew was coming next. All the same I yowled as another flare of pain shot through me, curling in on myself.

Cas's hand came up to brace my back, and after a moment I nodded that he could release me. He stepped back, and I pulled the blanket over me. No one needed to see my chest anymore.

"Thanks," I said with a small smile. Cas nodded, watching me silently.

"You had two broken ribs," he said disapprovingly. "They were causing internal bleeding. And there was fluid building up in your lungs. I don't think that was from a werewolf," he commented dryly.

I bit my lip. "No," I admitted. "That was from a lake."

Cas's eyes widened. "It's the middle of winter!" he exclaimed. "What were you doing in a lake?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's not like I decided to go for a swim," I admonished. "I fell in when I was fighting a werewolf."

Cas frowned. "So he kicked you in the ribs and pulled you into a lake?"

"No, no," I corrected him. "I shot the ice to put him in the lake but he dragged me with him. Then I stabbed him in the eye and his mother kicked me in the ribs for it."

Cas now had a slightly pained expression on his face, which Sam and Dean seemed to be enjoying very much. I couldn't blame them. If I wasn't starting to get slightly afraid that the angel was about to endow me with a very long lecture I would have been laughing too. What was wrong with him? Why was he suddenly so protective of me?

I was about to ask just that when Cas grabbed my arm. We appeared in my room a minute later, and he thrust me towards the bathroom.

"Shower. Now," he ordered.

I raised an eyebrow. "Yes mother."

I put the water on hot, still in the process of thawing after my swim that day, even if Cas had prevented me from coming down with pneumonia. Cas had left a change of clothes for me in the bathroom, and I quickly pulled them on.

The angel in question was sitting on my bed with a mug of hot chocolate. As I appeared he stood, thrusting the mug into my hands, then guided me to the bed and proceeded to bury me in blankets.

"Hold up," I ordered. Cas paused, another blanket in his hands, frowning as I pulled off a few of the layers that he'd draped over me. "Enough with the blankets. I'm burning up here. And where'd you get hot chocolate?"

Cas took the blankets I handed them and set them on the other bed. "I bought milk and chocolate powder at a store," he informed me. "Dean said I had to microwave it."

I nodded. "Thanks," I said, giving him a smile. "But, can I just ask, why the sudden overprotectiveness?"

Cas shrugged. It was an odd gesture for him, and I narrowed my eyes.

"I worry about you three," he admitted. Again, my eyebrows rose.

"Funny, I don't see you mothering over Sam or Dean." I leaned back against the pillows, watching Cas's face. He fought to keep it passive, but I could see the gears turning in his head.

I laughed softly at his expression, and patted the bed next to me. The poor angel needed a break. He hadn't done anything wrong. He'd probably just saved my life. I could go easy on him- for now.

Cas climbed up next to me, and I snuggled against him, balancing my hot chocolate in my lap.

"Since you seem intent on being useful," I told him. "You can be my pillow."

Ok, maybe that was a bit mean, but as Cas shifted to allow me to settle into a more comfortable position on his chest, I really didn't care.


	16. Chapter 16

"Ok, so what's the plan?"

I looked back and forth between Sam and Dean, waiting for one of them to respond. We were in Minnesota, working a case that involved a series of hauntings. People throughout town had been seeing ghosts all over the place; the spirits of loved ones or past inhabitants of their houses. There was no pattern as to who appeared or to whom.

But the most striking thing about the case was how manyghosts there were. We'd gone throughout town and taken a survey, and concluded that over a dozen ghosts had been seen. Assuming no one had made up anything, we were dealing with a lot of graves to dig up. Some of them, like one woman's dead dog, were going to be difficult. We were going to need to sneak into her backyard during the night.

But the question still remained; why were all these ghosts suddenly acting up? All at once, and all right here in this one town? It seemed like someone was playing around with magic and had brought a bunch of spirits back from beyond the grave.

Normally, we'd focus on the idiot bringing the ghosts to life. Once we'd taken care of him the ghosts would all go back to where they belonged. But the previous night someone had died as a result of the hauntings. A woman living alone in an old house; something that had appeared to her had caused her to trip and fall down the stairs. We no longer had time to look for the witch bringing the ghosts to life. We had to stop the ghosts first, before they could drop anymore bodies.

Sam looked up from where he was bent over a map. "The majority of the graves are in the cemetery," he said. "Then there's just the one dog." He frowned and studied the map again.

"We can't burn the dog in the yard," Dean pointed out. "The whole block would see. We'll have to bring it somewhere else, then burn it."

Sam nodded. "I'll start at the graveyard, and you two get the dog and meet me there?" he asked.

I nodded. "Sounds good." I glanced over to Dean. "You can carry the dog."

Dean chuckled, but didn't object. Grabbing his coat, he tossed me the keys to the impala.

"Seriously?" I asked. Dean nodded.

"You need the practice," he stated. I nodded and grinned, then bolted for the door before he could change his mind.

The streets were already dark as I guided the impala through them, Sam doling out instructions to the cemetery. There he unloaded a shovel and several gallons of gas, as well as a plastic bag filled with salt containers. As soon as the trunk of the car was shut I hit the gas, pulling smoothly out onto the road again. Ten minutes later we were climbing a rickety metal fence into the back yard that housed the remains of the dead dog.

Even though it was now spring, the night air was still cold enough to warrant a jacket. I zipped mine up as Dean handed me a flashlight, and we carefully made our way to where the dog was buried. When the boys had come to interview the owner of the house the other day they had been sure to mark the exact location of the dog.

Dean made quick work of the spot, and soon was prying open the lid of a dog sized coffin. I held up a hand to stop him.

"Wouldn't it be easier to keep the dog in the box for now?" I asked. Dean thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Give me a hand here."

I reached down to grab the edge of the coffin as he thrust it at me, then promptly dropped it as a scream echoed from inside the house.

Dean cursed and climbed out of the hole. "Stay here," he ordered.

I rolled my eyes and followed at a sprint, already pulling out my rock salt packed gun.

A young woman was backed up against the living room wall, still screaming her head off at the dog standing before her. The dog, which had been a golden retriever, stood calmly watching his owner, tail wagging softly. He seemed oblivious to the distress of the woman.

"Hey, Fido!"

At Dean's shout the dog spun, teeth bared. A moment later it got a mouth full of rock salt, and stumbled back with a yelp.

"Mommy?"

Everyone in the room whirled at the small voice coming from upstairs, and a horrified look came over the woman's face as a small shadow appeared on the wall.

"Derek, go back to bed," she called, her voice shaking. She screamed again as Dean fired off several more rock salt rounds and then gave chase as the dog bolted into the next room. I followed, but by the time Dean and I had followed the dog outside it had vanished.

"Dammit." Dean shoved the gun back into the back of his jeans, turning back to me. "I told you to stay out here," he commented angrily.

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously? That's what you're focusing on?" I turned away, then frowned as I spotted something dark on the grass by the door.

"What's this?" I touched the sticky liquid with my fingers, then pulled my hand back abruptly. "Dean, did you get hurt?"

Dean frowned. "No, why?"

I pulled my hand up to look at the substance on it again. "This is blood." I looked down at myself; I wasn't bleeding either. "Is this the ghost's?"

Dean knelt next to me to inspect the small droplets on the grass. "Ghosts don't bleed," he reminded me.

"What's going on here? Who are you?"

We looked up as the woman appeared in her doorway, a carving knife grasped in a trembling hand. Behind her a young boy peeked out at us, blue eyes wide. She pushed him back behind her with her free hand.

Dean cursed. "Call Sam," he told me quietly. "Tell him to stop digging and steal a car to get back to the room. I'll explain things to these two."

I nodded, whipping out my cell phone and hitting two on the speed dial. A minute later Sam answered, out of breath from digging graves.

"Stop what you're doing," I told him. "Head back to the motel. We've got a problem."

"What?" Sam's voice took on a concerned edge. "Are you two alright?"

"Yeah." I quickly explained what had happened, and Sam agreed to meet us at the motel. I reentered the house just as Dean finished concocting some lie to the terrified mother inside.

She still held the butcher's knife, but it was more relaxed in her grip. Her son, I noticed, had been sat down with a coloring book near the front door, where he could run outside if Dean tried anything. He wasn't paying any attention to the crayons clutched in his hand though, staring wide eyed at Dean.

"Momma," he called. "Is Jesse coming back?" He looked towards the fireplace, where in front of the hearth a dog bed still sat, a red rubber bone tucked in the corner. The dog must not have been dead for long. I felt tears in my eyes as hope filled Derek's face.

"No, baby." His mother knelt down in front of him, setting her knife on the coffee table. Apparently she'd decided that Dean and I weren't a danger to her son. "I told you, Jesse had to go away."

Dean tugged at my arm gently, and I followed him back outside. Before we left I made him fill in the hole we'd dug in the family's yard. It seemed wrong to leave it there.

We got back to the hotel before Sam, and Dean immediately sat down with their dad's old journal. When Sam arrived a half hour later he looked none too pleased, but settled down next to his brother.

"What are we dealing with here?" he asked. Dean shrugged, still flipping through the old pages. I glanced over from the computer and frowned.

"Hold on," I stated. "I've got an idea." Shutting the computer, I sat up and faced the brothers expectantly. "What if it's a shape shifter?"

"A shape shifter?" Sam pondered for a moment, then shook his head. "We haven't found any skins," he objected.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean much," Dean pointed out. "They could just be shifting somewhere else." He glanced at the gun he'd tossed on the bed. "Ghosts don't bleed," he added. "But a gun, even a rock salt one, would effect a shifter."

"Yeah, but it'll have healed by now," Sam pointed out. "All we've done is make it angry."

"Actually them," I stated. I rolled my eyes at the confused looks Sam and Dean gave me. "Several of these hauntings happened at the exact same time, or close enough in time but too far apart in distance between them that there has to be more than one." I glanced down at my notes on the case. "I'd say there're at least four."

"Great." Dean stood and moved to fridge for a beer. "We gotta find where they're holing up," he stated.

"Ok, but how?" Sam ran hand through his way too long hair. "What's the pattern?"

I made a face. "The question of the hour," I commented dryly.

"What if we don't need to figure out the pattern?" asked Dean. He grabbed the map that we'd been using and spread it out over the table. "Hand me a pen," he called out.

Sam and I watched as he began to connect the red dots we'd drawn on the map to indicate the locations of hauntings, and found for the most part that a circle formed.

"Give me the pen," I ordered. I retraced the circle, leaving out a few outlying dots, and ended up with a neat little sphere encompassing a neighborhood of the town. "Who lives there?" I asked.

We spent the rest of the night researching the neighborhood. It housed the wealthy folk of the town; lawyers, bankers, and a couple of doctors. None of them seemed the type to sneak around at night pretending to be someone's dead dog.

"What about the kids?" asked Sam. "I could see a bunch of high school jocks pulling something like this."

Dean nodded. "Possibly," he stated. "Tomorrow's Wednesday; they'll be in school. We'll sneak into their houses, see if we can find anything." He sighed and looked over to me. "You think you can get into the school?" he asked.

I nodded. "What do you need?"

"Keep an eye on them," Sam told me. "Try and listen in on what they're talking about, if they're all together. And touch one of them with this." He pulled out a small silver knife and handed it to me. "Be subtle though."

I nodded and stuck the knife in my pocket. Of course I'd be subtle. What did he expect me to do, walk up to some kid in the hallway and stab him?

I stayed awake a while longer, doing some research on the teenagers in the neighborhood. One group of friends in particular caught my eye, a small entourage of boys in their senior year. They were a rowdy bunch. I had Sam hack their school records and found that they'd been caught skipping classes and cheating on exams multiple times.

However, they were surprisingly tame outside of school. Despite the parties they held at their houses whenever their parents were out of town, they had never been arrested.

Sam shrugged when I told him this. "Maybe they're just not that bad," he suggested.

I eyed him incredulously. "I don't think so," I stated. "I think they just never get caught." I pulled up a drug bust from a few weeks ago. A high school student had been identified by police officers as the school nerd, seen talking with a drug dealer. He'd run off before they could question him though. The next day they had pulled him down to the station for questioning, and had been thoroughly confused when his alibi had checked out.

"Somehow," I said, pointing to the asthma riddled, scrawny seventeen year old whose picture was on the screen, "I don't see him buying drugs and then outrunning a bunch of cops."

"You gotta admit that's clever," Dean stated. He shrugged as I glared at him. "What? Just because it's wrong, doesn't mean I can't appreciate their genius. The world's best disguise."

I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I wondered if I was the only mature one out of the three of us.

The next day Sam and Dean dropped me off at the school, and I snuck inside as the buses unloaded. I had the schedules of the group of five boys in my pocket, and I found a bathroom close to where three of them had their first class to hide in.

I spent the majority of the first half of the day crouched in bathroom stalls, emerging each time the bell rang to follow the boys through the halls. They seemed completely normal, joking about the same stuff as all other boys. I sighed as I emerged from a bathroom to follow them to the lunch room. I was going to need to use the knife.

I paused just inside the cafeteria, trying to figure out how to subtly tap one of them with a silver knife, and scanned around the room, alert for someone who realized I didn't belong. I frowned as I spotted a girl moving around the cafeteria with a handheld video camera, and I hid behind a vending machine as I watched her. Although she made sure to make her way around the room, she always ended up turning back to the group of boys I was tailing.

I approached her from behind, not wanting my face on the camera. "What are you doing?" I asked, tapping her on the shoulder.

She whirled, and I grimaced as the camera was pointed at my face. So much for staying off screen.

"I'm taking film," she explained, lowering the camera. "I'm with the club that makes the freshmen orientation video each year, and we need some shots of the cafeteria."

I nodded, remembering my own freshmen orientation. I had sat with my dad in the auditorium to listen to the principal give a sappy welcome speech, followed by an equally sappy video about how high school was going to be just fantastic.

I gestured to the boys that were crowding a small, round table, downing bags of chips and the school's grease filled pizza. "Any reason you keep turning the camera back to them?" I asked.

The girl shrugged, a blush taking over her face. I chuckled and nodded.

"Which one do you like?" I asked. Her blush deepened, but she pointed to a blonde haired teenager who was currently chugging a bottle of water. "Jake Spinelli," she answered. "He's the captain of the soccer team."

I laughed at the dreamy look that came over her face. "Did you get any good shots?" I asked.

The girl frowned. "I don't know," she admitted. "I mean, I've got some good angles, but the lighting always does something weird to their eyes."

I forced my mouth into a frown, ignoring the excitement that rose up in me. "Let me see," I offered.

The girl frowned, but handed me the camera. "What's your name?" she asked.

I used the same name I'd gone with the last time I'd snuck into a school. "Martha," I said. "What about you?"

"I'm Mary." Mary fast forwarded through the tape to the first of the shots, then shifted so that I could see the screen. I inspected the eyes of the group of boys, recognizing the retinal flare that identified them as shape shifters.

I kept up my pretense though, whistling softly under my breath. "That's interesting," I commented. "Are they all like that?"

Mary nodded and showed me several more shots. Each displayed the retinal flare. As the cafeteria started to file out at the end of the lunch period I sent her a small smile.

"Good luck with the filming," I told her. I paused. Should I warn her away from her boy crush? I decided not to. If he was really a danger, he would be dead by the end of the night. I slipped out of the cafeteria behind the group of boys.

They seemed to have other ideas than going to their next class. I followed them as they slipped out a back entrance to the school, mentally applauding the administration's stellar job of keeping track of its students. The boys started through the football field, and I cursed as I heard them talk about heading to Jake's house.

I texted Sam and Dean quickly, ducking behind the bleachers to do so. When I peeked out again, the boys were gone. I frowned. Where were they?

"Why are you following us?"

I spun to see one of them- Jake Spinelli- standing just behind me. His friends were arranged in a group just behind him, and I quickly noted that he seemed to be the head of this group.

"I'm not," I gulped. I automatically stepped back, my right hand coming up to hover over my back pocket where the silver knife was.

Jake grinned. "You skipping too?"

I shrugged, deciding to play along. "Maybe."

One of the other shifters spoke up. "I don't remember seeing you around," he stated. "Are you new?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I told them. "I'm Martha."

"I'm Jake." The lead shifter gestured to himself, then back to his buddies. "This is Tony, Steve, Henry, and Noah."

I waved. "Hi," I called.

Each of the boys returned variations of hi. I couldn't help but notice that they seemed less than pleased by my appearance.

Jake, however, didn't seem to mind. "Why don't you hang with us?" he offered. I blinked in surprise, as did the other four boys. Now they looked annoyed.

"I don't think so," I said. I sent him a small smile. "See yah around."

I turned and started walking away, ignoring the buzz of my phone in my pocket. From behind me I could hear the angry muttering of the boys to Jake, and then he called out, "wait!"

I stopped and turned to see him jogging up behind me, a wide grin spread across his face. "Come on," he pleaded. "We're cool."

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't think your friends want me to join you," I pointed out.

Jake shrugged. "They can deal. Just for a little while," he compromised.

I sighed. It would help the case for me to get closer with them. "Fine," I agreed reluctantly. I pulled out my phone. "Let me just tell my friends that I'll be late meeting up with them."

Jake nodded and stepped back while I looked at Dean's message. It told me to meet him and Sam on the road behind the school so they could pick me up. I sent back an update on what I was doing and flipped the phone shut, sighing in anticipation of the lecture I was sure to get later.

I followed the boys through the streets and back towards their houses, Jake slinging his arm over my shoulder as we walked. He seemed to have decided that since I was new in town it was his duty to point out all of its attractions as we passed them. I plastered a mildly interested expression on my face, ignoring the furious buzzing of my phone in my pocket.

"Home sweet home." Jake unlocked the door to his house, stepping to the side to allow the rest of us in. His friends filed past sullenly, still upset about my presence, and I glanced around before I entered. Just down the street I could make out the impala as it parked, Sam and Dean doing their best not to make their steak out obvious. I sent them a quick nod, then allowed Jake to usher me inside.

Soon we were situated in the living room with chips and soda, and Jake sat a little too close for my comfort. I allowed it though, flirting back with him in the hopes that it would loosen his tongue.

I was still surprised when he whispered in my ear that we should go upstairs. I shook my head, giving him a small smile.

"I don't think so," I responded. "Nice try though."

Jake frowned slightly, but nodded and settled back next to me. I resisted the urge to stand and move away as his arm encircled me.

Several long minutes later I glanced at the clock. "Oh, I've got to go," I said, shooting off the couch. Jake stood, and I resisted the urge to bring my hand to the knife in my pocket.

"You've barely been here an hour," he complained.

"I have friends to meet," I shot back. "And you said just for a little while."

"One more hour?" asked Jake. Clearly he was still hoping to get me upstairs.

"Let her go," Steve ordered. "We still need to talk about that thing." His eyes flickered nervously in my direction at the mention of what was seemingly a sensitive subject.

This drew a sour expression over Jake's face. He frowned, but nodded.

"Let me walk you out," he suggested. I nodded and followed him back through the house.

"Will I see you at school tomorrow?" he asked as he opened the front door.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe," I supplied. Jake grinned, and before I knew it he had me pinned against the doorframe as he kissed me.

I shoved at him, trying to push him off, but his kiss only deepened. I kicked my knee up, catching him in the groin, and with a gasp of pain he fell away.

"Don't do that again," I snarled. "When someone tries to push you off them that means _no._"

"I'm sorry." I scowled at Jake's words. Sitting there with his hand over his crotch, he'd sounded anything but sorry.

"Lucy!"

I spun and groaned as Dean all but flew up the driveway, Sam just behind him. Murder was in both their eyes.

"I'm fine," I called. "I handled it."

Dean grunted as he reached us. "Now it's my turn," he commented. As Jake struggled to his feet Dean delivered a solid punch to his stomach, and Sam caught him none too gently as the shifter's knees buckled. Dean produced a rope and bound Jake's hands behind his back, Sam clamping a hand over the shape shifter's mouth to quiet him. Then Sam circled around behind the house, and Dean hauled a now gagged Jake to his feet.

"I'll go in first," I offered. "Get them off guard."

Dean nodded, looking unhappy. I slipped back inside, fixing a bright smile on my face as I rounded the corner into the living room.

"Hey guys," I greeted. I headed into the kitchen, and all four boys turned towards me. "I'm gonna stay for a while longer."

"How much longer?" Noah's face puckered into a frown as I shrugged, ignoring Sam as he crept up to the sliding glass door at the side of the room. In my chest my heart was pounding, but I ignored it and leaned against the counter. By now I had all four boys completely focused on me.

"Until we get some answers," commented Dean. The shifters whirled to see him standing in the doorway, holding a struggling Jake in place. The boys backed away, turning towards the back door only to come to a halt as they spotted Sam's hulking figure on the other side. As we watched, Sam calmly finished picking the lock and stepped in, producing a length of rope.

They turned to me. "What the hell?" snarled Tony. "What are you?"

"Hunters," Dean supplied. The faces of all five boys paled.

"Don't freak out too much," I assured them. "We just want to talk."

"Which is why you brought rope?" Henry commented. His eyes flickered to the blade Dean had pressed against Jake's throat. "And silver knives," he added.

I shrugged, fighting to stay nonchalant despite the pity forming in my heart at the terror on their faces. "Precautions."

The boys continued to eye us, petrified.

"Look." Sam let his rope fall to the floor. "We really do just want to talk. We're not here to hurt you."

Henry pointed over to Jake. "Then untie him," he ordered, his voice shaking.

Dean rolled his eyes, but did as the shape shifter requested. He shoved Jake roughly to the center of the room, where the boy glared at me, muttering something under his breath. I gritted my teeth, but let it pass.

Sam, Dean, and I stayed where we were, knowing we had the young shifters cornered in the center of the room. "Ok," started Dean. "So, first of all, I take it you lot have been 'haunting' people all over town?"

"Yeah," Jake answered. Now that he had use of his mouth again he was doing the talking, the other four boys watching his responses carefully.

I scowled at the uncaring attitude to his voice. "You do realize the extent to which you've been screwing with people," I stated. "Several of them are about ready to check into mental hospitals. There's a little boy who's convinced his dog is going to come back to him. And let's not get started on the woman you killed."

At my words all five faces paled, and the shifters' eyes became downcast.

"Actually," Sam commented. "Let's talk about that." He pulled a picture from his pocket and unfolded it before tossing it on the coffee table. I barely got a glimpse of the woman lying on the mortician's slab before Jake picked it up. He quickly handed it off to Steve, who then thrust it to Tony. From there the photo went to Noah, and then to Henry before ending up back on the table. All five boys avoided looking at it, their faces taking on a greenish tint.

"We're sorry." Steve's voice wavered as he spoke. "We didn't mean for it to go that far. We were just having a bit of fun."

Beside him Noah nodded fervently. "We didn't want anyone to get hurt," he promised.

"That's what we were planning to talk about today," Henry added, his gaze fixed on me. I remembered what Steve had told Jake about needing to talk when I had stood to go. "We were going to back out."

I nodded, exchanging looks with Sam and Dean. These four, at least, seemed sorry for what they'd done. I doubted they'd do it again. Based on what I saw in Sam and Dean's eyes, they agreed with me.

"And what about you?" Dean pointed to Jake. "Are you going to stop?"

Jake nodded, face still pale. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. Please don't kill us."

Sam sighed. "We won't," he stated. The boys all adopted expressions of relief on their faces.

"Yet," Dean elaborated. He took a step further into the room. "We'll be keeping an eye on you," he declared. "One wrong move and we'll be back. And we won't be so nice next time."

The boys nodded, eyes wide, and made a series of promises to behave themselves. We quickly backed out of the house, making our way to the impala.

"Do you think they'll stop?" I asked.

Dean shrugged. "The majority of them?" he asked. "Yeah. Not sure about that one kid though."

I nodded.

"Let's stay in town for a few days," Sam suggested. "Just to be safe."

We did, taking turns watching Jake's house at night. However, with the exception of one late night store run no one came or went after dark, and there were no more hauntings reported throughout town.

After three days the boys had decided we could leave. I stopped them as they began to load the car, quickly voicing the idea that had been forming in the back of my mind. It took several minutes, but eventually they agreed.

It didn't take long to get what we needed done. The animal shelter was in town, showing off several dogs of different breeds and ages who were sitting in their crates, enduring the curious stares of perspective owners. We bought the dog under one of the credit cards Sam and Dean had scammed, and I held the squirming puppy as we drove through the streets.

We had also bought a crate, knowing that one would be needed for the puppy until it was house trained and could be left loose when no one was home. I left the dog in the crate on the front porch of the house we'd had the encounter with the shape shifter in several days ago, ringing the bell before running back to the impala. We'd parked at the corner, far enough away that we most likely wouldn't be spotted, but close enough that we could see what happened.

The woman who owned the house answered the door in her robe, scanning around nervously. Derek peeked around her leg in his Spiderman pajamas, his eyes immediately finding the crate I'd left there. His shout of glee filled the air, and ignoring his mother's order to let her open the crate, he quickly pulled out the puppy. The furry little bundle squirmed in his arms, and he giggled as he clung to it with small hands.

His mother seemed at a loss for words. She scanned around one last time, then ushered her son and their new puppy inside the house and dragged in the crate, a teary eyed smile on her face. As the door closed behind her I heard her son laugh as he rolled around with his new puppy, and I smiled smugly.

"You see," I told the boys. "Worth every penny."

They grumbled in response, but as Dean put the impala into gear I noticed that they both had soft expressions on their faces.


End file.
